LIBRARY 

OF  THK 

UNIVERSITY   OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Receded....        ._. 


A  c cession  $•  No .      f  4*  S/ielf  No. 

EDUC. 

PSYCH. 

LIBRARY 


FREEDOM 


OF 


MIND  IN  WILLING; 


OE, 


EYEEY    BEING   THAT   WILLS   A   OEEATIYE 
FIEST   CAUSE. 


BY 

ROWLAND  G.  HAZARD. 

ii 


THE 

NIVERSITY 


NEW  YOEK: 
D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY, 


443  &  445  BEOADWAY. 


LONDON:    16gLITTLE  BRITAIN. 
1866. 


RAi 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864*  by 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY, 

fn  the  Cork's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Souther* 
J         District  of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


THE  public  mind  is  at  present  so  engrossed  with  other 
pursuits,  and  so  satisfied  with  its  progress  in  them,  that  there 
is  little  room  to  hope  that  it  will  bestow  much  attention  upon 
the  subject  of  this  volume.  Physical  Science  and  Material 
Progress  are  now  the  absorbing  objects  of  effort.  To  these 
all  utility  is  ascribed,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  Metaphysical, 
which  lies  under  the  imputation  of  being  both  uninteresting 
and  useless.  Why  this  opprobrium  and  whence  the  general 
neglect,  the  absolute  indisposition,  to  inquire  into  the  struc 
ture  and  conditions  of  our  spiritual  being,  which,  as  the  source 
of  all  our  power  and  all  our  enjoyments,  one  might  naturally 
suppose  would  most  interest  us,  and  at  the  same  time,  by  its 
mystery,  most  excite  our  curiosity  ?  That  the  discoveries  in 
Physics,  so  varied  and  so  magnificent,  have  largely  contributed 
to  our  material  comforts,  have  feasted  the  intellect  and  even 
regaled  the  imagination,  is  undoubtedly  one  cause  of  this 
neglect  of  the  science  of  mind.  But  there  are  other  reasons, 


IV  PEEFACE. 

among  which  we  may  mention  the  real  difficulties  of  the 
subject.  These  are  of  two  distinct  kinds ;  first,  those  of 
ascertaining  the  truths  ;  and  second,  those  of  imparting  them 
after  they  have  been  ascertained.  The  first  of  these  are, 
in  some  respects,  peculiar.  We  want  to  examine  that 
which  examines ;  we  want  the  mind  to  be  employed  in 
observing  its  own  action,  *..  e.,  we  want  it  to  be  doing  one 
thing  when  it  is  of  necessity  doing  another.  A  further 
difficulty,  even  in  the  investigation  of  the  phenomena  of 
mind,  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  language  applied  to 
metaphysical  science  is  very  imperfect  as  an  instrument 
of  thought.  The  science  of  mind  has  very  little  language 
of  its  own,  and  in  adopting  for  it  what  has  been  formed 
and  fitted  to  another  department  of  knowledge,  much  con 
fusion  and  error  result.  The  ambiguity,  or  various  mean 
ings  of  the  terms,  so  often  mislead  the  investigator  himself,  that 
he  is  not  unfrequently  obliged  to  relinquish  the  instrumen 
tal  aid  of  words,  and  directly  examine  his  original  ideas 
and  conceptions  of  the  subjects  of  inquiry.  The  difficulty 
of  imparting  the  results  in  a  language  so  imperfect  is 
obvious,  and  is  increased  when  it  has  been  discarded  in 
reaching  them.- 

But,  with  all  this  inappreciation  of  its  benefits  and  all 
its  recognized  difficulties,  Metaphysics  has  its  peculiar 
attractions.  The  questions  of  every  child,  the  yearnings 
of  the  adult,  though  in  expression  only  occasionally  gleam 
ing  through  the  settled  gloom  of  discouragement  and  de 
spondency,  still  manifest  the  fervid  curiosity  in  regard  to 
that  mysterious  invisible,  which  knows,  thinks,  feels  and 


PREFACE.  V 

acts ;  and  even  in  those  too  busy,  too  sluggish,  or  too 
hopeless  to  put  forth  an  effort  to  gratify  it. 

The  reason  of  its  being  neglected  lies  not  so  much  in 
its  want  of  attraction,  as  in  the  prevailing  idea  of  its  in- 
utility  ;  and  this  idea,  though  now  magnified  by  temporary 
causes,  has  a  foundation  in  the  fact,  that  no  investigation 
of  the  nature  of  our  faculties  and  powers,  mental  or  physi 
cal,  is  essential  to  that  use  of  them  which  our  early  exist 
ence  demands.  For  this  we  have  the  requisite  knowledge 
by  intuition.  We  can  use  our  powers  without  studying 
either  Anatomy  or  Metaphysics.  It  is  not,  then,  surpris 
ing  that  we  should  early  direct  our  attention  to  the  study 
of  those  extrinsic  substances  and  phenomena  of  which  more 
knowledge  is  obviously  and  immediately  useful.  The  want 
of  satisfactory  results  has  also  had  its  influence ;  and  per 
haps  there  is  no  question,  the  discussion  of  which  has 
tended  more  to  bring  upon  Metaphysics  the  reproach  of 
being  unfruitful,  than  that  of  the  "  Freedom  of  the  Will." 
The  importance  of  removing  this  grand  obstruction  to  the 
progress  of  ethics  and  theology,  is  appreciated  only  by 
those  who  in  their  researches  have  encountered  it.  They 
alone  have  caught  glimpses  of  the  radiant  fields  of  specu 
lation  which  lie  beyond ;  and  most  men  regard  the  specu 
lations  upon  it,  not  only  as  having  furnished  no  new  truth, 
but  as  having  obscured  what  was  before  known. 

Whatever  opinion  may  be  formed  of  the  success  or 
failure,  of  my  effort  to  elucidate  this  subject,  I  trust  it  will 
be  admitted,  that  the  arguments  I  have  presented,  at  least, 
tend  to  show  that  the  investigation  may  open  more  elevated 


VI  PREFACE. 

and  more  elevating  views  of  our  position  and  our  powers ; 
and  may  reveal  new  modes  of  influencing  our  own  intel 
lectual  and  moral  character,  and  thus  have  a  more  imme 
diate,  direct,  and  practical  bearing  on  the  progress  of  our 
race  in  virtue  and  happiness,  than  any  inquiry  in  physical 
science. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I. 

FREEDOM    OF    MIND    IN     WILLING. 

PAGB 

CHAPTER  I.— OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  SPIBIT, 1 

Postulates  of  the  argument— Knowledge,  thought,  sensation,  emotion,  want 
and  effort  recognized  as  in  one  combination  ;  one  mind — Each  of  such  combina 
tions,  associated  with  a  particular  form,  constitutes  what  each  denominates  I 
— Idea  of  form  not  essential  to  our  idea  of  spirit,  or  intelligent  being — Certain 
sensations,  which  we  can  and  do  ourselves  produce  ;  some  of  the  same  kind, 
which  we  know  that  we  do  not  produce,  and,  attributing  to  others,  get  the  idea 
of  other  finite  minds  ;  and  others,  which  we  cannot  produce  ;  and  thus  get  the 
idea  of  Superior  Power — This  power  really  infinite,  or  to  us  the  same  as  if  it 
were  so— "We  thus  come  to  know  ourselves,  our  fellow  beings,  and  God,  as 
CAUSE. 

CHAPTER  II.— OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  MATTER, 5 

"We  know  of  it  only  by  our  sensations— Sensations  not  conclusive  proof  of 
its  existence— Sensations  may  be  the  thought  and  imagery  of  the  mind  pf  God 
directly  imparted  to  us — In  either  case  they  represent  His  thought,  and  are  equal 
ly  real — That  they  are  thought  and  imagery  directly  imparted  to  us,  the  more 
simple  hypothesis,  and  more  in  accordance  with  our  own  conscious  powers — 
Matter  not  necessary  for  Spirit  to  act  upon— This  illustrated  by  geometrical 
science — To  ignore  matter  would  simplify  the  question  of  freedom  of  the  mind 
and  make  creation  more  intelligible — Not  sufficient  proof  to  warrant  this 
course  ;  but,  in  either  case,  the  phenomena  are  the  same,  and  matter  is  unin 
telligent  and  inert. 

CHAPTER  III.— OF  MIND,    .       .       .       ..*....       .       .9 

Its  attributes  and  its  faculty  of  will — Its  sensations  and  emotions  not  de 
pendent  on  its  will — Its  knowledge  also  not  so  dependent — But  act  of  will  may 
be  essential  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge— Feeling  a  property,  or  suscepti 
bility,  rather  than  a  faculty— Ability  to  acquire  knowledge  a  capacity,  or  sense, 
rather  than  a  faculty— Object  of  act  of  will  always  is  to  produce  some  effect  in 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 


PAQR 

the  future— Supposed  faculties  of  mind,  other  than  will,  all  but  nair^s  of  some 
form  of  knowledge,  or  of  some  mode  of  effort  to  acquire  it — All  knowledge,  in 
the  last  analysis,  a  simple  mental  perception— Objection,  that  these  supposed 
faculties  sometimes  seem  to  act  of  themselves,  considered — Definition  of 
knowledge  and  of  metaphysical  certainty. 

CHAPTER  IV.— LIBERTY,  OB  FREEDOM,     .       .  .       .       .       .       .19 

Opposing  terms,  compulsion,  control,  constraint,  and  restraint — That  which 
controls  its  own  action,  acts  freely. 

CHAPTER  V.— OF  CAUSE,    .       .    "  '.    '  ,.   '"   .  '_.       .        .       .       .21 

Cause  used  as  that  which  produces  change — Four  distinct  conceivable  kinds 
enumerated— Two  of  them  material,  and  two  intelligent.  * 

CHAPTER  VI.— OF  THE  WILL,    ...........    24 

Confusion  in  treating  will  as  a  distinct,  active  entity— "Will  defined  as  the 
power  or  faculty  of  the  mind  for  effort— Mind  cannot  be  inert  cause— Mind 
has  two  distinct  spheres  for  its  activity ;  in  one,  it  seeks  to  learn  what  is,  and 
in  the  other  to  influence  the  course  of  events  in  the  future — These  connected 
by  the  mind's  prophetic  power. 

CHAPTER  VII.— OF  WANT,       ..'.-..       .       .      - .       .       .       .       .27 

The  term  want  used  to  express  the  conscious  condition  of  the  mind,  and 
not  the  thing  wanted— A  mere  sensation,  or  emotion,  or  its  absence,  is  not  in 
itself  a  want — The  idea  of  change  an  essential  element  of  want — Primary  and 
secondary  wants— Natural,  acquired,  and  cultivated  wants— Natural  wants  not 
the  result  of  volition — Acquired  want  results  from  some  increase  of  knowledge 
— Influence  of  want  on  will  not  varied  by  the  cause  of  it. 

CHAPTER  VIII.— OF  MATTER  AS  CAUSE, 32 

All  changes  in  matter  must  arise  from  motion  in  it — Cannot  move  itself, 
and  hence  cannot  be  cause,  except  by  first  being  in  motion — Can  it  thus  be 
come  cause?  If  so,  as  it  may  have  been  in  motion  from  eternity,  may  always 
have  been  cause— Other  questions  upon  which  this  depends— If  motion  gives 
it  causative  power,  that  power  is  diminished  in  producing  effects  ;  and  hence, 
in  an  eternity,  must  be  reduced  .to  an  infinitesimal — Matter  in  motion  subject 
ed  to  intelligent  control — Matter  cannot  be  made  cause  by  impressing  laws 
upon  it — Matter  an  instrument,  a  means,  by  which  one  intelligence  communi 
cates  with,  or  produces  effects  upon  another — If  matter  be  cause,  its  effects 
cannot  affect  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing,  any  more  than  the  effects  of 
intelligent  causes  can— Action  of  mind  on  matter— Independent  action  of 
matter. 

CHAPTER  IX.— OF  SPIRIT  AS  CAUSE,       .       .        .       .....       .42 

Spirit  is  an  indispensable,  if  not  the  only  cause — Relations  of  the  finite  to 
the  Supreme  Intelligence,  as  cause — Creative  powers  of  the  finite  mind  of  man 
similar  to  those  of  the  Infinite— Man  has  no  faculty  by  which  he  can  create, 
or  even  couceive  of  the  creation  of  matter  as  a  distinct  entity,  and  there  is  no 
necessity,  or  reason  to  suppose  that  God  has — The  human  mind,  within  the 


CONTENTS.  IX 


PAGB 

sphere  of  its  knowledge,  with  a  coordinate  finite  presence,  is  creative— Its  in 
cipient  creations  are  conceptions  of  its  own  mind— Its  creative  power  exerted 
in  the  same  manner  as  that  of  the  Infinite — Creative  power  of  man  may  be 
secondary  in  its  character— That  is,  moulds  its  conceptions  in  the  same  mate 
rial  which  God  has  previously  used  for  a  like  purpose — Our  own  ideal  concep 
tions  distinguishable  from  the  external  creation  only  by  their  subjection  to  our 
will — God's  conceptions,  or  creations,  also  subject  to  change  or  annihilation  by 
His  will— Man's  limited  power  to  transfer  the  conceptions  of  his  own  to  other 
minds— Finite  mind  can  create  not  only  new  forms  and  new  combinations,  but 
new  thought  and  new  beauty. 

CHAPTER  X.— FREEDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE,      .       .....       ...       .51 

The  question  should  be,  not,  7s  the  will  free  ?  but,  Does  the  mind  will  freely  ? 
— The  willing  distinct  from  its  sequence  or  effect — Connection  between  volition 
and  its  effect — Intelligence  must  have  an  object  for  acting,  rather  than  not  act 
ing—This  object  must  be  an  effect  which  it  wants  to  produce  ;  must  arise  from 
a  want — With  this  want  must  be  associated  knowledge  of  the  means  of  its  grat 
ification — Action  different  under  different  circumstances,  and  the  first  step 
must  be  to  examine,  or  to  ascertain  the  circumstances,  and  this  fact  is  probably 
intuitively  known — Want  and  knowledge  the  source  in  which  volitions  origi 
nate  and  receive  their  direction — Sources  of  volition  resolvable  into  an  active 
being  with  knowledge  and  want-  Want  and  knowledge  may  be  without  voli 
tion—A  want  may  itself  be  the  object  wanted— We  do  not  make,  but  find 
knowledge ;  and  for  intiiitive  knowledge  do  not  have  to  seek — Deliberation 
necessary  in  applying  acquired  knowledge — Without  the  knowledge  of  a  choice 
in  means,  the  first  perceived  would  be  adopted— Experience  teaches  delibera 
tion — Deliberation  still  but  the  application  of  knowledge  to  action — Delibera 
tion  is  the  considered  application  of  knowledge,  leading  to  a  judgment — Time 
devoted  to  it  decided  by  the  mind— Mind  can  arrest  its  impulse  to  gratify  its 
want  by  the  first  perceived  means,  to  consider  its  proposed  action — This  power 
makes  one  distinction  between  instinctive  and  rational  actions— We  do  not 
make  any  effort  for  what  already  is — Every  effort  is  a  "beginning  to  do,  and  is 
an  exercise  of  creative  power — Finite  mind  has  creative  powers,  and  capacity 
to  use  them— Circumstances,  examination  of  which  is  essential  to  proper  ef 
fort—We  never  will  to  do  what  we  know  we  cannot  do— Mind  does  not  always 
adopt  the  easiest  mode  of  attaining  the  ultimate  object  of  its  effort— Illustra 
tion  from  the  want  of  food— Efforts  must  be  in  a  certain  order,  otherwise  abor 
tive — Effects  of  a  series  of  finite  efforts  as  clearly  manifest  design  aa  the  plan 
etary  system— Deliberation  illustrated— We  do  not  will  as  to  what  is  past,  but 
to  produce  some  effect  in  the  future— Mind  forms  preconceptions  of  this  future 
effect  of  effort — To  will  requires  a  prophetic  view  of  the  future,  making  a 
broad  distinction  between  intelligent  and  unintelligent  cause — The  mind's  pro 
phetic  power  fits  it  for  &  first  cause— The  mind  must  determine  what  change 
it  will  try  to  produce — For  this,  if  want  and  knowledge  were  ijot  fixed  and  in 
dependent  of  will,  the  data  would  be  insufficient — If  want  and  knowledge  not 
fixed,  the  mind  must  form  hypothesis  to  act  upon — No  power,  ignorant  of  the 
want  and  th®  perceptions  of  the  agent,  could  determine  the  will  of  that  agent 
— That  want  and  knowledge  are  not  subject  to  the  will,  facilitates  the  mind  in 
the  exercise  of  its  freedom  in  willing — Whether  the  mind's  preconceptions  are 
realized  by  its  own  power,  not  material  to  the  question  of  its  freedom  in  will- 
A* 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGH 

ing — Finite  mind  exerts  its  creative  power  in  same  manner  as  the  Infinite — 
Each,  respectively,  subject  to  its  own  conditions— Conflicting  wants  and  wants 
of  activity  and  repose  (note)— Supposed  commencement  of  creation— A  creative 
God  must  make  effort — Intelligence  a  cause,  which  produces  various  effects — 
Another  step  in  creation  supposed — Every  creative  act  a  beginning  of  a  new 
creation— Supreme  Intelligence  acting  with  coexisting  "blind  causes— Acting 
also  with  coexisting  intelligent  causes— In  either  case,  must  will  freely— 
Amount  of  its  power  makes  no  difference  to  the  freedom  of  intelligent  being 
in  willing— Nor  does  the  amount  of  its  knowledge— Hence,  the  finite  intelli 
gence  may  be  as  free  as  the  Infinite— One  intelligence  may  shape  circum 
stances  to  influence  the  will  of  another,  which  may  be  effective  if  that  other 
acts  freely — The  period  of  creation  at  which  the  finite  mind  begins  to  act  does 
not  affect  its  freedom — Every  act  of  will  the  same,  in  some  respects,  as  a  first 
act— Is  the  finite  mind,  in  willing,  controlled  by  any  other  power  ?— Conceiva 
ble  modes  of  external  control — These  modes  considered — Influence  of  other 
intelligences— Influence  of  circumstances— If  mind  wills  at  all,  it  must  will 
freely— Same  result  more  concisely  reached  through  the  logical  relation  of 
terms. 

CHAPTER  XL— INSTINCT  AND  HABIT,       .       .       .       .      ~f       .       .       .    99 

The  sphere  of  liberty  varies  in  different  orders  of  intelligence — Each  equal 
ly  free  in  it?  own  sphere  of  knowledge — Matter  has  no  such  sphere,  and  hence, 
if  it  had  the  essential  attributes,  could  manifest  no  freedom— Being,  with  sen 
sation,  but  no  want,  could  not  will — Knowledge,  to  be  available  for  willing, 
must  extend  to  the  future — The  lowest  order  of  intelligence,  admitting  of  will, 
is  that  with  one  want  and  one  known  means  of  gratifying  it,  and  this  intuitive — 
Instinctive  action  still  voluntary  and  free — And  free,  not  merely  as  not  coun 
teracted—In  the  instinctive,  the  spheres  of  knowledge  and  freedom  reach  their 
minimum,  but  are  still  coexistent — But  for  the  element  of  knowledge,  instinct 
ive  action  would  be  mechanical — Conceivable  that  first  instinctive  actions  may 
be  mechanical— Knowledge  that  we  can  will,  and  how  to  will,  and  that  by  will 
we  can  produce  change  in  ourselves,  could  not  be  taught  by  practical  exam 
ples,  but  must  be  intuitive — Hence,  not  mechanical — All  the  requisites  of  will 
incorporated  in  our  being — Instinct  may  bring  the  infant  within  easy  effort  of 
its  object — Absence  of  deliberation  in  intuitive  action — Muscular  action  the 
basis  of  our  plans  for  external  change— Bodily  movement  always  instinctive— 
This  is  the  point  from  which  instinctive  and  rational  actions  take  their  depart 
ure — In  the  instinctive,  not  only  the  mode  of  making  the  action,  but  the  plan, 
the  successive  order  of  volitions,  is  intuitively  known — Inferior  free  agents 
may  still  subserve  the  purposes  of  a  superior — Conflicting  modes  and  wants  are 
cases  for  the  exercise  of  judgment— Imitative  actions  diverging  from  instinct 
ive — Distinguishing  features  of  instinctive  action — Some  cases  of  rational  ac 
tion  liable  to  be  confounded  with  instinctive — When  we  are  conscious  of  form 
ing  a  plan  of  action  this  does  not  occur— When  we  work  from  memory  of  a 
plan,  intuitive  or  acquired,  it  is  HABIT— Peculiar  characteristics  of  habit — Sim- 
iliirity  of  instinctive  and  habitual  action — Analogy  of  habitual  to  mechanical 
action— Rational  actions,  in  becoming  habitual,  approach  the  instinctive— Cus 
tomary  actions  belong  lo  the  same  group— Recapitulation  of  actions,  mechan 
ical,  instinctive,  rational,  customary,  and  habitual— Habit  has  same  relation  to 


CONTENTS. 


PAG3 

action  that  memory  has  to  knowledge,  and  depends  on  memory  and  associa 
tion — That  habit  applies  to  actions  which  we  have  most  frequent  occasion  to 
perform,  increases  its  benefits,  yet  often  regarded  as  a  vice  of  the  mind— Rea 
sons  why  it  is  so  regarded. 

CHAPTER  XIL— ILLUSTRATION  FBOM  CHESS, 126 

Known  laws  of  the  game  somewhat  analogous  to  intuitive  knowledge— First 
moves  may  be  habitual— Subsequently  the  player  deliberately  forms  precon 
ceptions  and  compares  them — Does  not  examine  every  possible  move,  but  de 
termines  how  long  to  examine  by  an  exercise  of  judgment — Each  volition  to 
move  the  same  as  if  he  had  never  before  moved— A  more  complicated  game 
supposed,  more  nearly  resembling  that  of  real  life— The  skilful  succeed  against 
many  opponents  ;  and  Infinite  "Wisdom  would  accomplish  Its  end  though  op 
posed  by  any  number  of  finite  intelligences,  all  acting  as  freely  as  itself— The 
uninitiated  see  no  order  or  design  in  the  game— It  is  a  creation  having  its  own 
laws— Automaton  chess-player— But  for  the  uniformity  of  God's  actions,  the 
efforts  of  finite  agents  would  be  impossible — Case  in  which,  by  the  laws  of  the 
game,  only  one  move  is  possible,  and  analogous  cases  in  real  life — Compliance 
with  the  laws  of  the  game,  as  with  the  laws  of  God,  may  become  habitual,  but 
this  does  not  conflict  with  freedom — Influence  of  law  on  individual  action — The 
word  law,  in  such  cases,  used  in  two  distinct  senses,  but  the  knowledge  of  the 
law,  in  either  sense,  important  in  deciding  our  efforts. 

CHAPTER  XIIL— OF  WANT  AND  EFFORT  IN  VARIOUS  ORDERS  OF  INTELLI 
GENCE,    .       ».      ..      ..      ..     ....     ..       »      ..     ;>      .-'.-..       .      ..       .136 

Want  requisite  to  all  but  the  lowest  forms  of  animated  existence — Imputa 
tion  of  want  to  the  Supreme  Being — A  sole  first  cause,  without  want,  would  im 
mediately  become  inert — Intelligence  must  have  a  retaining  power  and  some 
adaptation  to  put  its  retained  power  in  action — If  matter  is  cause,  no  applica 
tion  of  a  self-moving  power  to  it  is  possible — If  the  activity  of  any  intelligence 
ceases,  it  cannot  put  itself  in  action  again— No  intelligent  being  can  do  any 
thing  unless  it  makes  effort  to  do  something— Want  rouses  the  mind  to  effort, 
but  does  not  direct  the  effort — Effort  the  condition  of  cause  in  the  Infinite  as  in 
the  finite  being — Some  cause  with  power  to  produce  change,  which  it  does  not 
of  necessity  immediately  exerts  is  necessary— Mind  and  matter  in  motion  the 
only  such  causes  conceivable — The  existence  of  God  cannot,  of  itself,  be  the 
cause  of  anything  which  ever  began  to  be— Effort  makes  the  distinction  be 
tween  that  condition  of  a  being  in  which  it  seeks  to  produce  change  and  that 
in  which  it  does  not — If  in  the  Supreme  Being  there  is  no  such  distinction,  all 
effects  must  be  independent  of  His  action— Reasons  why  it  is  thought  Omnipo 
tence  may  produce  effects  without  effort — Omnipotence  has  its  bound  in  the 
absolutely  impossible — Want  has  with  it  the  germ  of  its  own  gratification — 
Man  may  design  change,  and  make  effort  to  actualize  his  design,  though  no 
other  intelligence  or  power  in  existence — The  mode  of  connection  between  vo 
litions  and  their  sequences  not  important  to  the  act  of  will. 

CHAPTER  XIV.— OF  EFFORT  FOR  INTERNAL  CHANGE,   .  ,   ^-, ,       .       .145 

Question  stated— Do  we  produce  the  sequences  of  volition  ?— The  important 
fact  is,  that  our  volitions  are  necessary  to  them — Effects  of  effort  for  internal 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


PAQB 

change  as  uniform  and  as  inscrutible  as  for  external— We  can  induce  spiritual 
as  well  as  physical  want,  but  cannot  directly  will  either  into  existence— Increas 
ing  our  knowledge  the  only  means  for  this,  and,  though  it  may  sometimes  have 
the  opposite  effect,  is  still  the  only  mode — Constitutional  occurrence  and  recur 
rence  of  our  spiritual  wants — "Want  the  source  of  effort  for  internal  changes  in 
all  intelligent  beings — General  moral  evil  and  individual  depravity — Man's 
knowledge  infallible  as  to  what,  for  him,  is  morally  right— Directs  his  efforts 
for  internal  change  by  means  of  his  preconceptions — In  forming  these,  need  not 
recognize  existing  circumstances — An  advantage  of  the  purely  ideal  concep 
tions — In  the  moral  nature  the  willing  is  the  consummation,  and  hence,  in  it, 
mind  is  a  supreme  creative  first  cause— Distinction  between  effort  in  the  moral 
sphere  and  out  of  it — A  man  who  does  not  want  to  be  pure  and  noble  may  be 
gin  with  the  want  to  want  to  be  pure  and  noble— Virtue  all  lies  in  the  effort, 
and  not  in  its  sequence — Not  any  present  moral  wrong  in  want,  or  knowledge, 
and  hence  all  moral  right  and  wrong  concentrated  in  the  act  of  will — Efforts  to 
bo  pure  and  noble  may  become  habitual— We  may  indirectly  discard  a  want— 
A  being  with  no  want  for  what  is  unholy  cannot  be  unholy — Cannot  will  what 
is  contradictory  to  its  own  nature — Though  many  of  our  moral  wants  are  in 
nate,  they  may  be  cultivated,  enabling  us  to  influence  our  moral  characteristics 
at  their  source — Conclusion  from  the  foregoing,  that  man  in  the  sphere  of  his 
moral  nature  is  a  supreme  and  a  sole  creative  first  cause — Man's  will  infinite, 
but  limited  in  its  range,  because  his  power  of  conception  is  finite— This  power 
may  forever  increase— Man  responsible  and  accountable  for  his  acts  of  will. 

CHAPTER  XV.— CONCLUSION, 161 

Recapitulation  of  the  previous  results  and  leading  positions — Wants  seem 
ingly  insignificant  may  be  the  basis  of  contests  for  the  mastery  of  empires — 
Man  bountifully  provided  with  wants— Physical  wants  temporary— Made  less 
inconstant  by  the  secondary  want  of  acquisition — They  are  preliminary  to  the 
soul's  progress,  teaching  effort ;  though  this  provision  is  often  counteracted  by 
acquisitiveness  with  a  material  bias — Spiritual  want  essential — Early  ideal 
constructions  and  influence  of  the  romantic  passion — "  Castle  building" — The 
interest  which  attaches  to  the  products  of  our  labor— Influence  of  wants  not 
left  to  accidental  occurrences — Recurrence  of  both  spiritual  and  bodily  wants 
amply  provided  for — Each  has  within  himself  an  inchoate  and,  to  him,  a 
boundless  universe,  which  is  his  especial  sphere  of  creative  action — Construct 
ing  this  universe  within  himself  the  principal,  if  not  the  sole  end  of  life. 


BOOK  II. 

BEVIEW   OF  EDWARDS   ON  THE  WILL. 

INTRODUCTION, 173 

CHAPTER  I.— EDWARDS'S  DEFINITION  OF  WILL, 177 

Edwards's  definition  of  will — He  identifies  volition  with  choice  and  prefer 
ence,  and  willing  with  choosing  and  preferring— His  definition  admits  of  vari- 


CONTENTS.  Xir 


PAGB 

ous  constructions— Confounds  the  process  of  choosing  with  the  result  of  the 
process — Also  asserts  that  an  act  of  choice  is  a  comparative  act  of  the  mind — 
Proof  that  tho  comparative  act  is  not  itself  the  act  of  choice,  and  that  the 
choice,  which  in  some  cases  is  the  result  of  a  comparative  act,  is  not  an  act  of 
•will,  but  is  knowledge— The  choice  to  will  preceding  the  act  of  will  considered 
— Edwards's  definitions  of  choice  as  an  act  of  will,  and  also  as  the  result  of  a 
comparative  act,  involve  an  absurdity — In  making  choic'e  an  act  of  will,  he 
makes  it  the  last  act  of  the  mind  in  relation  to  the  effect  intended— Cases 
mentioned  by  Edwards  in  which  the  soul  would  rather  have  or  do  distinguish 
able,  and  the  question  whether  choice  is  ever  an  act  of  will,  examined— Ed 
wards's  use  of  the  word  choice  confounds  the  understanding  with  the  will — 
Further  proof  that  choice  is  knowledge,  and  not  act  of  will— Sophism  admitted 
by  making  choice  a  synonym  for  will— Difficulties  encountered  by  Edwards, 
growing  out  of  his  definition — Difference  in  a  man's  preferring  to  walk  and 
preferring  to  fly — Edwards  constrained  to  admit  exertion,  but  having  no  space 
between  choice  and  effect,  must  crowd  it  into  one  or  the  other — My  views  ap 
plied  to  explain  the  difference  of  the  cases  of  preferring  to  walk  and  preferring 
to  fly — Edwards's  intention  to  use  the  word  choice  in  its  popular  sense — Reca 
pitulation. 

CHAPTER   II.— LIBMRTY  AS  DEFINED  BY  EDWABDS, 201 

Edwards  asserts  that  the  only  liberty  in  man  is  power  "  to  do  as  he  pleases,"  or 
"  conducting  as  he  wills"— This  places  liberty  in  that  in  the  doing  of  which  we 
are  not  conscious  of  having  any  agency — In  this  case  the  mind  has  no  liberty 
in  willing,  and  the  definition  begs  the  question— The  hypothesis  that  the  will 
ing  is  itself  a  doing  considered. 

CHAPTER  III.— NATURAL  AND  MORAL  NECESSITY, 204 

Edwards's  definitions  of  these  terms — Much  confusion  from  vague  use  of 
some  of  the  terms— Every  intelligent  being  with  will  a  distinct  cause— Hence 
our  will  cannot  change  the  course  of  nature,  except  by  being  an  independent 
cause — God's  action  or  the  counter-willing  of  finite  minds  may,  either  of  them, 
control  or  influence  the  effect  intended  by  another,  without  interfering  with 
the  freedom  of  that  other  in  willing — The  argument  is  rather  against  the  free 
dom  of  man  in  doing  than  in  willing' — Edwards's  definition  admits  three  dis 
tinct  intelligent  causes,  each  acting  freely — The  term  "necessity"  used  in  dif 
ferent  senses  in  defining  natural  and  moral  necessity — Edwards  makes  "  mo 
tive"  a  cause,  producing  volition,  or  makes  human  volitions  the  direct  action 
of  God— The  argument  from  these  definitions  stated— The  hypothesis,  that  the 
same  causes  of  necessity  produce  the  same  effects,  essential  to  it— It  assumes 
that  human  volitions  are  a  part  of  a  necessary  chain  of  events — Yet  asserts 
that  the  mind  encounters  difficulties  in  bringing  them  to  pass — The  assump 
tion  that  the  human  will  is  finite  shown  to  be  an  error,  and  especially  if  it  is 
"  choice"— Supposed  difficulty  in  willing  examined,  and  found  not  to  be  in  the 
willing,  but  in  finding  or  knowing  what  to  will— The  martyr  and  the  craven 
equally  free  in  willing — Difference  in  action  indicates  difference  in  character — 
Modes  in  which  we  form  our  own  characters  and  aid  each  other  in  doing  it — 
The  difficulty  spoken  of  by  Edwards  consists  in  the  conflict  between  present 
pleasure,  and  right  or  future  good— That  a  man  may  wiJl  against  such  convic- 


XIV  CONTENTS. 


PAQV 

tions  may  prove  that  he  Is  not  pure  and  wise,  but  not  that  he  is  not  free— The 
particular  cases  of  moral  inability  stated  by  Edwards — Examination  of  those 
cases— All  analogous  to  those  of  inability  to  will,  because  there  is  no  want— In 
ability  to  will  what  we  do  not  want  to  will  is  not  against  freedom — No  reason 
to  suppose  that  a  previous  bias  or  inclination  will  prevail  over  the  present  in 
the  act  of  will— If  it  does,  it  is  because  the  biased  or  inclined  mind  itself  con 
trols  the  act  of  will — As  in  the  case  of  "nature  of  things,"  Edwards  makes 
"habit"  a  power,  or  cause — No  certainty  and  no  necessity  that  habits  will 
continue— Habits  of  a  man  influence  his  act  of  will  only  in  case  he  wills  freely, 
— Man  is  said  to  be  a  slave  to  his  habits  ;  reasons  why — The  argument  from 
moral  necessity  only  proves  that  a  man  wills  in  conformity  to  what  he  wills, 
and  natural  necessity  only  implies  that  he  cannot  always  execute  what  he 
wills. 

CHAPTER  IV.— SELF-DETERMINATION,       .       .       .       .       ....  233 

The  argument  against  the  self-determining  power  of  the  will  irrelevant  to 
my  position — Edwards's  statement  of  his  argument  against  the  soul's  deter 
mining  its  volitions  in  the  exercise  of  its  power  of  willing— From  which  it  can 
only  be  inferred,  that  whatever  is  true  of  acts  of  will  is  true  of  acts  of  choice — 
Changing  the  word  "ire"  to  "fty"  vitiates  the  argument — Confusion  from 
using  choice  as  the  process  of  choosing,  and  also  as  the  result  of  the  process, 
and  "mind  "  and  "  will"  as  equivalents — Edwards  does  not  recognize  mind  as 
cause — Thero  must  be  something  to  move  the  mind,  as  it  does  not  act  without 
a  reason— Edwards  finds  this  prime  mover  in  his  "  motives  ; "  I  have  ascribed 
it  to  "want" — Control,  by  a  previous  act  of  will,  fatal  to  freedom  in  the  pres 
ent  act — Edwards's  favorite  reductio  ad  absurdum  that  a  self-determined  or 
free  act  admits  of  no  first  free  act,  fallacious. 

CHAPTER  V.— No  EVENT  WITHOUT  A  CAUSE, 24C 

Edwards  says  he  applies  the  word  cause  to  what  has  no  positive  influence — 
This  facilitates  his  proof,  but  makes  it  unavailing  for  his  purpose — Edwards's 
positions  being  admitted,  if  mind  is  itself  cause,  they  prove  its  freedom  in  will 
ing — He  assumes  that  the  cause  of  a  volition  must  be  not  only  without  the  vo 
lition,  but  without  the  mind  that  wills— If  the  act  of  mind,  as  cause,  must  have 
a  cause,  for  the  reason  that  everything  which  begins  to  be  must  have  a  cause, 
there  can  be  no  first  act  of  cause — The  soul  itself,  being  the  cause  of  its  voli 
tions,  is  not,  in  them,  the  subject  of  effects  which  have  no  cause — The  question 
why  the  soul  exerts  such  an  act  and  not  another  considered — Examination  of 
Edwards's  position  that  "  activity  of  nature  "  cannot  be  the  cause  why  the 
mind's  action  is  thus  and  thus  determined — This  argument  also  vitiated  by 
changing  in  to  5y,  or  by  assuming  that  of  two  terms  expressing  the  same  thing 
one  is  the  cause  of  the  other — Volition  cannot  be  determined  by  the  "  past." 

CHAPTER    VI.— OF  THE  WILL'S  DETERMINING  IN  THINGS  INDIFFERENT,  .  259 

Edwards's  statement  of  the  question  imperfect,  though  warranted  by  ex 
tracts  from  his  opponents— As  he  states  it,  one  thing  is  indifferent,  and  another 
chooses — Other  of  his  arguments  founded  on  his  assumption  that  will  and 
choice  are  identical — His  use  of  the  phrase  "  determining  power"  ambiguous, 
applying  either  to  mind  or  will— Another  statement  of  the  argument— Ed- 


CONTENTS.  XV 


FAQS 

•wards  supposes  the  mind  to  devise  a  way  of  getting  itself  out  of  a  state  of  in 
difference,  and  illustrates  by  the  touching  of  one  of  the  squares  of  a  chess 
board — His  argument  denies  that  the  mind  can  get  itself  out  of  a  state  of  indif 
ference,  yet  begins  by  showing  how  it  can  do  so — Mind's  doing,  indirectly  by 
volition,  what  it  cannot  do  directly,  is  not  against  its  freedom — In  this  case 
such  indirection  (the  giving  itself  up  to  accident)  does  not  obviate  the  suppos 
ed  difficulty,  but  increases  it— Just  as  difficult  for  the  mind  to  determine  what 
accident  as  what  square  of  the  chess  board— Edwards  might  as  well  have 
made  the  movement  of  the  finger  as  the  movement  of  the  eye  determine  the 
square  to  be  touched — In  either  case,  the  difficulty  of  indifference  may  recur — 
There  is  the  same  difficulty  of  indifference  in  applying  the  accident,  even  if  it 
can  be  selected — The  whole  causal  efficacy  must  be,  not  in  the  accident,  but  in 
the  rule  which  the  mind  makes  to  apply  it,  in  doing  which  it  again  encounters 
indifference— The  mind  can  as  well  make  the  rule  to  touch  a  particular  square 
without  the  accident  as  with  it — The  whole  efficacy  of  the  proposed  plan  is  in 
the  mind's  governing  itselfby  an  arbitrary  rule  which  itself  has  created — The 
indirection  would  not  aid  the  argument  for  necessity,  but  these  supposed 
cases  of  indifference  militate  against  it — If  choice,  among  the  objects  of  effort, 
is  essential  to  will,  a  man  never  could  will  if  there  was  only  one  object — Not 
necessary  to  an  act  of  will  that  we  should  select,  or  choose  even,  among  objects 
which  we  know  to  be  different — The  bearing  of  the  views  elicited  in  Book  I. 
on  this  question — Similarity  of  cases  of  indifference  and  those  of  wanting  to 
will— The  apparent  analogy  of  Edwards's  mode  of  deciding  them  to  that  of  de 
ciding  between  parties  having  equal  claims— But  this  would  as  well  be  accom 
plished  by  a  direct  act  of  will — If  decided  by  lot,  or  accident,  an  arbitrary  rule 
must  still  be  made — Analogy  of  the  cases  of  indifference  to  matter  kept  at  rest 
by  equal  counter  forces. 

CHAPTER  VIL— RELATION  OF  INDIFFEBENCE  TO  FREEDOM  IN  WILLING,   .  284 

Edwards  uses  the  term  indifference  as  directly  opposed  to  preference — His 
argument  against  the  soul's  sovereign  power  in  certain  cases,  only  proves  that 
if  the  soul  wills  when  it  does  not  will,  then  its  willing  is  not  wholly  owing  to 
itself— Much  confusion  from  using  the  term  inclination  as  identical  with  will, 
and  yet  as  something  which  goes  before  it — Another  of  his  arguments  only 
proves  that  the  mind  is  not  free  in  willing  when  it  is  not  willing  at  all— And 
this  and  the  subsequent  reasoning  only  proves  that  the  mind  cannot  .both  will 
and  not  will  at  the  same  time — His  statement  that  a  free  act  of  will  cannot 
immediately  arise  out  of  a  state  of  indifference,  considered — He  assumes  that 
choice  is  a  necessary  element  of  free  will— Argument  thus  far  avails  only  on 
certain  inadmissible  premises,  and  has  little  application  to  my  positions— For 
the  purposes  of  this  argument,  Edwards's  assumption  that  choice  is  a  pre 
requisite  of  a  free  act  of  will  may  be  admitted — Form  in  which  this  admission 
may  be  mo|f  plausibly  used  against  freedom — The  essential  element  of  free  ac 
tion  is  not  choice,  but  self-direction— Suspending  volition— Edwards  assumes 
that  suspending  volition  must  be  an  act  of  volition — If  so,  the  mind  never  can 
stop  willing,  for  suspending  its  willing  is  only  another  willing — Even  then  the 
mind  could  suspend  action  in  one  direction  by  acting  in  another — And  liberty 
in  every  action  might  still  be  maintained — What  is  meant  by  suspending  an 
actXjf  will — Illustrations  from  reading  aloud — Do  we  will  either  to  will  or  not 


XVI  CONTENTS. 


PAG* 

to  will  ? — Nearest  approach,  to  willing  to  will  is  when  we  want  exsrcise  for  the 
faculty  of  will  and  act  capriciously — Indifference  indicates  the  point  of  depart 
ure  from  the  passive  to  the  active  state  ;  perfect  in  the  non- active  state  of  pro 
found  sleep — Vigilance  of  the  mind  as  to  changes  about  it  which  may  call  for 
effort— Effort  to  find  what  changes  are  taking  place,  or  what  action  these 
changes  require,  is  ATTENTION — To  know  these  changes  does  not  always  re 
quire  effort — Changes  often  occurring  and  requiring  no  action,  as  the  striking 
of  a  clock,  are  immediately  forgotten— Reason  why  monotonous  sounds  favor 
reverie  and  the  concentration  of  the  mind  in  abstract  thought. 

CHAPTER  VIII.— CONTINGENCE,        .        .       .-.--.       .       .       .          313 

Treated  by  Edwards  in  Part  II. ,  sections  8  and  9 — If  mind  is  the  cause  of 
its  acts  of  will,  then  Edwards's  argument  only  proves  that  they  are  necessarily 
connected  with  mind,  and  not  that  mind  is  not  free — Edwards  absurdly  argues 
that  the  mind  is  not  free  in  the  act  cf  willing,  because  the  act  of  will  is  connect 
ed  with  the  mind — His  argument  also  involves  the  contradiction  that  mind  ia 
not  free,  because  it  cannot  be  otherwise  than  free — In  chapter  xiii.  applies  sim 
ilar  reasoning  to  prove  that  if  the  will  controls  itself  it  cannot  be  free,  because 
controlled  by  itself — Fallacy  of  this  and  preceding  argument — From  the  posi 
tion  that  every  effect  is  dependent  on  its  cause,  Edwards  infers,  not  that  the 
effect,  but  that  the  action  of  the  cause  is  necessitated— Necessary  futility  of 
reasoning  on  his  statement,  which  really  only  asserts  that  a  man  wills  what  he 
wills — The  hypothesis  that  there  are  other  mental  faculties  which  influence 
the  will  considered  in  its  relation  to  the  mind's  freedom  in  willing — Edwards's 
argument  denies  the  possibility  of  this  ;  but  with  more  reason  it  might  be  said 
that  all  cause  is  of  necessity  free— Even  matter  in  motion  is  not  constrained  or 
restrained  till  it  comes  to  the  producing  of  an  effect — Any  force  or  power  sub 
ject  to  extrinsic  control  is  an  implement  rather  than  a  cause — Essential  differ 
ence  in  the  freedom  of  intelligent  and  material  causes. 

CHAPTER  IX.— CONNECTION  OF  THE  WILL  WITH  THE  UNDERSTANDING,     .  323 

Sometimes  the  last  dictate  is  neither  an  act  of  Will  nor  followed  by  an  act  of 
will— If  will  is  choice,  it  never  follows  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding— 
If  it  does,  still  not  against  the  mind's  freedom  or  self-determining  power  in 
willing — Edwards  attempts  to  prove  that  the  will,  as  a  distinct  entity,  is  not 
free — Act  of  will  not  always  necessary  to  the  mind's  attention — Mind  may  be 
gin  by  an  effort  to  obtain  the  requisite  knowledge,  or  may  direct  its  action  by  a 
simple  perception  of  it — Edwards's  position  in  regard  to  the  will's  following 
the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding  really  confirms  the  freedom  of  mind  in 
willing. 

CHAPTEE  X.-MOTIVE,         .        .       .       .        .       .       .       .       .        ,        .327 

Statement  of  Edwards's  argument  on  motive— Varies  his  definition  of  will 
to  accommodate  the  argument— His  argument,  even  admitting  his  definition  of 
will,  is  still  fallacious— His  definition  of  motive  amounts  only  to  "that  which 
is  a  motive  is. a  motive" — As  impossible  to  deduce  any  new  truth  from  such 
definition  as  from  the  expression  "  whatever  is,  is  "—The  argument,  as  he 
states  it,  does  not  contravene  that  of  his  opponents — The  difficulty  is  radical, 
arising  from  defining  motive  not  by  what  it  is,  but  by  what  it  must  do— To 


CONTENTS.  xvil 


PAGB 

conform  to  tho  definition  and  admit  the  deduction  of  necessity,  the  motive 
must  control  the  mind — The  motive  cannot  itself  determine  that  it  is  the 
strongest — This  must  be  done  by  the  intelligent  being  that  wills — His  positions 
involve  an  infinite  series  with  no  beginning— That  the  mind  has  in  itself,  or  its 
own  view,  a  motive,  no  reason  why  it  does  not  act  freely— "Whether  motives 
prove  necessity  or  freedom  must  depend  on  their  character  or  influence — Ed- 
warda  uses  "  motive"  sometimes  as  meaning  the  mind's  mew  of  an  object,  and 
at  others  the  object  viewed — The  assertion  that  the  mind  is  governed  by  its  own 
views  affirms  its  freedom — The  point  that,  if  the  mind  determines  itself  by  its 
own  view,  the  object  viewed  is  still  essential  to  that  view,  considered— The  ex 
istence  of  objects  of  choice  cannot  be  a  reason  why  the  mind  does  not  will  free 
ly — Freedom  does  not  imply  a  power  to  make  existing  circumstances  different 
from  what  they  are  at  the  time — Classification  of  objects,  which  may  possibly 
be  motives,  under  Edwards's  definition — These  considered  in  their  order — 
Vague  popular  notions  in  regard  to  the  influence  of  circumstances— Particular 
cases,  as  stated  by  Edwards,  make  motive  the  mind's  view  of  the  future  effects 
of  its  own  action— Inquiry  as  to  the  meaning  of  "  previous  tendency" — The  ar 
gument  again  leads  to  an  infinite  series,  and  makes  the  act  of  (will)  choice  be 
fore  that  by  which  the  mind  chooses  has  acted— In  Edwards's  system,  motive, 
or  previous  tendency  of  motive,  must  be  an  act  of  choice  springing  directly  out 
of  a  state  of  indifference — Same  difficulty  in  regard  to  motive  which  Edwards 
finds  in  regard  to  will— This  difficulty  attaches  to  every  system  which  does  not 
recognize  a  self-moving  power  or  cause. 

CHAPTER  XL— CAUSE  AND  EFFECT, 364 

The  argument  of  Edwards  assumes  that  the  same  causes  of  necessity  pro 
duce  the  same  effects — If  the  same  cause  never  acted  twice  there  could  be  no 
application  of  the  rule— The  law  is  deduced  from  observation,  and  cannot  be 
of  metaphysical  necessity— No  reason  to  suppose  the  law  goes  farther  than  our 
observations  indicate — That  there  is  no  general  rule  without  exceptions,  con 
flicts  with  it — No  reason  to  suppose  that  God  may  not  vary  from  any  law  of 
uniformity  which  he  has  established  for  His  own  government— That  He  is  om 
niscient  obviates  the  necessity  of  trying  different  modes— In  mind,  observation 
does  not  indicate  any  such  law— To  all  appearance,  different  minds  act  differ 
ently,  and  even  the  same  mind  changes  its  mode  in  similar  circumstances — No 
case  can  arise  for  the  application  of  the  rule  to  mind — Under  such  rule  a  sole 
First  Cause  never  could  have  produced  but  one  effect— The  application  of  this 
rule  to  intelligent  cause  denies  any  continuing  power  to  produce  changes  in  the 
universe — As  applied  tb  God,  the  rule  can  only  mean  that  He  has  adopted  uni 
form  rules  for  His  government— The  finite  mind,  after  having  tried  one  mode, 
may,  upon  the  recurrence  of  the  same  circumstances,  try  another— As  used  by 
Edwards,  the  law  of  cause  and  effect  involves  an  infinite  series  with  no  begin 
ning  of  action — There  must  be  some  cause  which  has  power  to  change  itself  as 
cause,  or  to  vary  its  effects — Changes  in  matter  must  be  referred  to  an  intelli 
gent  will — Some  things  may  have  been  made  not  uniform,  to  vary  the  prob 
lems  of  life,  for  the  development  of  the  finite  intelligence— No  difficulty  in  sup 
posing  that  the  finite  mind  may  be  a  first  or  originating  cause — If  mind  is 
cause,  the  necessity  of  volition  as  its  effect  does  not  prove  that  mind  is  not  free 
—The  uniformity  of  God's  action  is  necessary  to  and  argues  the  existence  of 


XVlll  CONTENTS. 


PAQB 

finite  free  agents — The  argument  that,  if  the  same  circumstances  occur  a 
thousand  times  to  mind  in  the  same  condition,  its  action  will  be  the  same,  ex 
amined. 

CHAPTER  XII.— GOD'S  FOREKNOWLEDGE,        .     . .       .•      .       .       .       .384 

Edwards  argues  that  the  acts  of  the  will  must  "be  necessary,  because  God 
foreknows  them— Unavailing  reply  to  this— An  event  foreknown  by  infallible 
prescience  must  be  as  certain  in  the  future  as  if  known  by  infallible  memory  in 
the  past,  and  God' s  foreknowledge  at  free  volitions  is  contradictory — The  other 
link  in  the  argument  of  Edwards,  that  God  must  foreknow,  denied — Edwards's 
position  that,  without  foreknowledge  of  men's  volitions,  God  could  not  be  able 
properly  to  govern  the  universe— His  argument  goes  rather  to  disprove  freedom 
in  executing  the  volitions  than  in  the  volitions  themselves — God,  foreknowing 
all  the  effects  of  human  volition  which  are  possible,  can  provide  in  advance  for 
any  contingence— That  He  may  do  this  without  deviating  from  uniform  modes 
of  action,  illustrated  by  an  automatic  chess-board — He  may  also  deviate  from 
such  uniformity  in  miracles — And,  in  many  things,  we  do  not  know  that  He  has 
established  any  uniformity— Foreknowledge,  for  the  purpose  of  making  sea 
sonable  provision,  not  necessary  when  the  power  is  infinite— Foreknowledge 
of  God  has  the  same  relation  to  His  actions  that  preconceptions  of  man  have 
to  his. 

CHAPTER  XIII.-CONCLUSION, 401 

Recapitulation  of  the  argument — Edwards's  erroneous  and  incompatible 
definitions  of  Will  and  Choice — His  favorite  reductio  ad  absurdum  and  various 
sophisms  founded  on  these  errors— His  error  in  defining  Freedom — His  argu 
ment  from  Moral  Necessity  and  Moral  Inability,  and  supposed  difficulties  in 
willing — His  argument  from  the  connection  of  volition  with  a  prior  cause— Mo 
tive — Habit  as  a  motive — Assumption  that  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce 
the  same  effects— Indifference  and  Contingence— Last  dictate  of  the  under 
standing—Willing  in  cases  of  indifference— Foreknowledge— Edwards's  idea  of 
it  would  deprive  God  of  the  highest  attributes  of  creative  intelligence. 


BOOK  I. 


FREEDOM  OF  MIND  IN  WILLING 


UNIVERSITY 


BOOK     I. 
FREEDOM   OF  MIND    IN    WILLING. 

CHAPTER    I. 

OF   THE  EXISTENCE  OP  SPIRIT. 

EVERY  argument  has  its  postulates.  We  cannot 
reason  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  unless  some 
thing  be  first  known.  Of  all  that  we  "believe,  nothing  is 
more  certain  than  the  existence  of  belief  itself,  consti 
tuting  knowledge ;  and,  of  this  knowledge  the  belief 
that  there  is  some  existence  which  believes,  stands  in  the 
first  rank ;  and,  next  in  order,  a  belief  in  a  plurality  of 
existences,  which,  of  necessity,  implies  that  each  of  the 
existences,  constituting  this  plurality,  has  peculiar  and 
distinguishing  characteristics,  otherwise  it  would  be 
identical  with  some  other  existence.  It  would  not  add  to 
the  number  of  existences ;  and,  if  none  possessed  dis 
tinguishing  attributes  or  conditions,  there  could  be  only 
one  existence.  In  such  case,  if  space  is  a  necessary  exist 
ence,  all  other  existence  would  become  impossible.  Even 
if  space  were  homogeneously  filled,  that  which  fills  must, 
in  some  way,  be  different  from  that  which  is  filled.  Time 
itself  would  be  excluded.  It  may  then  reasonably  be  as- 


2  FBEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

sinned  not  only  that  the  belief  in  the  plurality  of  exist 
ences  itself  exists,  but  that  it  is  well  founded.  In  this  plu 
rality  there  is  nothing  of  which  we  have  more  convincing 
proof  than  of  the  existence  of  sensation,  emotion,  want, 
and  of  effort  to  supply  want,  of  all  which  we  are  conscious. 

Perhaps  we  cannot  logically  deduce  from  this  any 
separate  existence,  which  knows,  feels  and  acts,  but  it  is 
at  least  certain,  that  this  knowledge,  sensation  and  effort 
are,  in  some  way,  so  far  associated  as  to  justify  us  in 
speaking  of  them  as  one  combination ;  and,  in  doing 
this,  each  individual  combination  of  them  is  denominated 
a  spirit,  an  intelligence,  mind,  or  soul,  of  which  the  attri 
butes  of  knowing,  feeling  and  acting  are  distinguishing 
characteristics.  As  present  with  this  mind,  or  soul,  yet 
distinct  from  it,  we  associate  the  idea  of  a  particular 
form,  which,  with  the  soul,  constitutes  what  each  ex 
presses  by  the  term,  "I."  This  idea  of  form  is  not  essen 
tial  to  our  conception  of  mind,  or  spirit,  the  attributes  of 
which  may  be  conceived  of  as  entirely  independent  of  such 
association,  or  as  purely  intelligent  being,  or  beings. 

Among  our  sensations  are  some  which  each  indi 
vidual  finds  he  can  himself  produce.  He  can,  by  cer 
tain  efforts,  produce  the  various  sensations  known  as 
muscular  movements,  the  sound  of  a  bell,  &c. ;  and 
hence  knows  his  own  power  to  produce  effects.  But  he 
finds  the  sensation  is  sometimes  produced  without  any 
effort  of  his  own,  and  hence  he  infers  a  cause,  or  power 
without  himself;  and  most  naturally  attributing  the 
effect  to  a,  power  similar  to  that  which  in  himself  pro 
duces  similar  effect, — to  another  finite  intelligence, — he 
gets  the  idea  of  the  existence  of  other  finite  minds.  It 
is,  perhaps,  hardly  necessary  here  to  remark,  that 
although  through  the  sensations  of  sight  we  may  have 


OF  THE   EXISTENCE   OF   SPIEIT.  6 

an  immediate  perception  of  other  forms  like  our  own, 
still,  the  belief  that  other  similar  beings  are  associated 
with,  or  represented  by  such  forms,  is  an  inference  from 
the  visual  sensation,  in  connection  with  other  facts. 
We  draw  no  such  inference  from  our  image  in  a  mirror, 
or  from  any  other  object  known  to  be  lifeless,  however 
nearly  resembling  the  human  form. 

But,  among  our  sensations,  are  some,  which  we  find 
we  have  no  power  to  produce,  or  very  insufficient 
power ;  and  hence  we  infer  the  existence  of  a  power 
without  ourselves,  greatly  exceeding  our  own;  so  in 
comparably  surpassing  it,  that  we  term  it  infinite. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  evidence  as  first  presented  to  us, 
only  proves  the  existence  of  a  power  capable  of  pro 
ducing  the  sensations  of  which  we  are  conscious ;  but 
every  new  observation  revealing  greater  and  greater 
power,  and  power  far  beyond  what  we  had  previously 
conceived,  lays  the  foundation  for  a  belief  that  the 
power  is  unlimited,  and  that  any  apparent  limitation  to 
it  is  in  our  own  finite  powers  of  observation  and  con 
ception.  Or,  to  put  it  in  another  form,  the  constant 
effect  of  the  enlargement  of  our  own  observations  and 
conceptions  having  always  been  to  make  the  limit  of 
this  external  power  appear  more  remote,  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  a  further  enlargement  of  them, 
to  any  finite  extent,  would  bring  us  nearer  to  that  limit ; 
and  hence,  so  far  as  our  experience  goes,  we  may,  if  not 
with  strict  logical  accuracy,  yet  without  danger  of  its 
leading  us  into  philosophical  error,  apply  the  term 
infinite  to  the  Supreme  Intelligence.  A  power,  which 
can  accomplish  everything  conceivable  to  us  as  within 
the  province  of  power,  is,  to  us,  the  same  as  if  it  were 
infinite.  It  has,  for  us,  no  conceivable  limit. 


4-  FREEDOM   OF  MIND  IN   WILLING. 

The  inference,  by  which  the  finite  intelligence  argues 
the  existence  of  other  similar  intelligences,  is  not  one 
of  absolute  necessity ;  for  all  the  phenomena, — the  sensa 
tions, — which  he  ascribes  to  their  agency,  may  be  pro 
duced  in  him  by  the  Infinite, — the  greater  including 
the  less.  But  the  exhibition  of  weaknesses  and  imper 
fections  like  his  own,  and  which  are  incompatible  with, 
the  Infinite  ;  and  the  repeated  coincidence,  or  frequent 
association  of  these  phenomena  with  the  presence  of 
forms  similar  to,  yet  differing  more  or  less  from  that 
which  he  associates  with  his  own  being,  and  in  which 
changes  resembling  his  own  external  actions  take  place, 
give  preponderance  to  the  hypothesis  of  the  existence 
of  other  and  numerous  finite  intelligences,  distinct  from 
his  own.  In  the  absence  of  any  reason  to  the  contrary, 
it  is  rational  to  suppose  things  really  to  be  as  they  appear 
to  be.  * 

So  far,  then,  we  may  be  said  to  have  arrived  at  the 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  our  own  finite  intelli 
gence  ;  of  other  similar  finite  intelligences  ;  and  of  the 
Supreme,  or  Infinite  Intelligence.  We  have  come  to 
know  ourselves,  our  fellow  beings,  and  God,  as  powers 
producing  certain  effects,  as  being  CAUSE. 


CHAPTEE    II. 

OF     THE     EXISTENCE     OF     MATTER. 

WE  know  nothing  of  matter  except  by  the  sensations, 
whick  we  impute  to  its  agency,  mediately,  or  imme 
diately  ;  and  as  those  sensations  can  exist  in  the  mind 
without  the  intervention  of  the  external,  material  forms, 
or  forces,  to  which  we  impute  them,  the  sensations  are 
not  conclusive  evidence  of  any  such  external  existence. 
In  dreams,  and  especially  in  nightmare,  we  have  as 
vivid  sensations  of  what  we  afterward  find  had  no  cor 
responding  external  materiality,  as  we  ever  have  under 
any  circumstances.  If  this  arises  from  the  excited  action 
of  our  own  memory  and  imagination,  it  merely  proves 
that  the  mind,  under  certain  conditions,  has  a  power  of 
reproducing  what  has  before  been  impressed  upon  it 
by  some  external  power,  and  at  the  same  time  of  vary 
ing  the  combinations  in  which  they  before  existed. 
This  does  not  conflict  with  the  position  that,  as  the 
sensations  may  exist  without  the  intervention  of  matter, 
the  sensations  are  not  evidence  that  matter  exists. 

All  the  sensations  which  we  attribute  to  matter,  are 
as  fully  accounted  for  by  the  hypothesis  that  they  are 
the  thought,  the  imagery  of  God  directly  imparted,  or 
made  palpable  to  our  finite  minds,  as  by  the  hypothesis 
of  a  distinct  external  substance,  in  which  He  has 


O  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

moulded  this  thought  and  imagery.  If  God,  with 
design,  created  or  fashioned  matter  in  the  forms  pre 
sented  to  us,  then  these  forms  are  but  the  result  of 
thoughts  and  conceptions  existing,  or  which  existed  in 
His  mind ;  and  the  only  question  is,  does  He  impart 
or  impress  them  directly  and  immediately  upon  our 
finite  minds ;  or  indirectly  and  mediately,  by  first 
writing,  picturing,  moulding,  or  carving  them  out  in 
a  distinct  substance  called  matter  ?  In  either  case  it 
is  to  us  equally  Teal  y  the  sensations,  by  which  alone 
we  know  these,  to  us,  external  phenomena,  being  the 
same.  The  hypothesis  that  the  material  forms  ar,e  but 
the  imagery  of  the  mind  of  God  made  palpable  to  us, 
is  the  more  simple  of  the  two,  and  makes  creative  at 
tributes  more  nearly  accord  with  powers  which  we  are 
ourselves  conscious  of  exercising. 

We  cannot  infer  the  existence  of  matter  as  an  en 
tity  distinct  from  spirit,  from  any  necessity  of  spirit 
for  something  to  act  upon  ;  our  conceptions  of  it  serv 
ing  for  this  purpose,  as  well  as  any  such  distinct  exist 
ence  could  do ;  and,  indeed,  being  all  that  we  can 
employ  the  faculties  and  attributes  of  spirit  upon. 
The  whole  science  of  Geometry,  which,  being  the 
science  of  quantity,  or  extension, — one  of  the  attributes 
of  matter, — may  be  deemed  as  emphatically  a  material 
science,  is  entirely  founded  on  such  conceptions ;  and, 
in  fact,  on  such  conceptions  as  we  get  no  accurate  sen 
sations  of  from  without ;  for,  not  to  insist  that  no  one 
ever  had  a  sensation  of  such  abstractions  as  a  mathe 
matical  point,  or  line,  we  may  assert  that  no  one  ever 
had  a  sensation  from  matter  of  a  perfect  mathematical 
form,  for  instance,  of  a  perfect  circle.  It  is  a  concep* 
tion  of  the  mind,  and  for  the  purposes  of  mathematical 


OF   THE   EXISTENCE   OF   MATTER.  7 

reasoning,  is  a  creation  of  the  mind,  brought  into  exist 
ence  by  actualizing  this  conception  in  a  definition  ;  and 
for  these  purposes,  whatever  conforms  to  that  definition 
is  a  circle,  and  what  does  not  so  conform  is  not  a  circle. 
The  reasoning  is  wholly  based  on  the  definition  of  our 
conceptions  of  form,  and  not  on  any  actual  existence,  or 
sensation  of  such  forms  in  matter,  which  are  never 
sufficiently  accurate  to  rest  such  reasoning  upon ;  and 
hence,  mathematics  is  really  a  hypothetical  science,  and 
would  be  equally  true  if  there  were  no  material  forms 
even  bearing  any  resemblance  to  the  conceptions  of  the 
mind  brought  out  in  its  definitions.  The  science  of 
mechanics,  too,  is  founded  on  our  conceptions  of  resist 
ance  and  forces,  as  solidity,  inertia,  momentum ;  and 
does  not  involve  the  question  as  to  what  these  forces 
really  are.* 

To  adopt  the  hypothesis,  that  our  sensations  of  what 
is  external  are  but  the  conceptions  of  God,  made  directly 
palpable  to  us,  and  ignore  matter  entirely,  would  free 
the  subject  of  the  freedom  of  intelligence  from  some 
apparent,  if  not  real  difficulties ;  and  would,  at  the 
same  time,  avoid  much  confusion,  which  I  apprehend 
has  been  occasioned  by  the  close  and  various  associa 
tions  of  matter  with  spirit.  "We  should  then  have  only 
to  consider  the  action  of  intelligence  in  its  finite  and 
infinite  forms.  But  as  either  hypothesis  accounts  for 
all  the  phenomena,  the  fact  that  one  is  more  simple  and 
that  it  makes  the  process  of  material  creation  more  com 
prehensible  to  us  is  not,  perhaps,  even  with  our  expe 
rience  in  dreams,  a  sufficient  reason  for  presuming  that 
matter  does  not  exist  as  an  entity  distinct  from  mind 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  I.  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


8  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

and  with  the  properties  which  our  sensations  indicate. 
"We  may  remark,  however,  that,  supposing  the  In 
finite  Intelligence  to  fashion  and. control  this  matter, 
it  would  make  no  difference  as  to  the  question  of  our 
freedom ;  for,  in  that  case,  the  real  phenomena  would 
be  the  same, — the  thought  and  imagery  of  the  mind  of 
God — and  the  only  question  would  be  as  to  which  of 
the  two  modes  He  has  adopted  in  communicating  that 
thought  and  in  making  that  imagery  palpable  to  us. 
"We  may  further  remark  that,  with  the  testimony  of  our 
senses  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  the  considera 
tion  that  the  imagery  of  the  mind  of  God  is  not  in  it 
self  intelligent,  but  an  effect  of  intelligence  in  action, 
we  may  assume,  in  either  case,  that  matter  is  in  itself 
unintelligent  and  inert.  Admitting,  then,  for  the  pur 
poses  of  the  argument,  the  existence  of  matter  as  dis 
tinct  from  spirit,  we  will,  in  a  subsequent  chapter,  in 
quire  how  far  it  can  produce  effects,  or  be  CAUSE. 


CHAPTEE    III. 

OF     MIND. 

V  ^ 

MIND  has  feeling,  knowledge,  volition.  It  is  suscep 
tible  of  sensation  and  emotion  ;  has  a  simple  perceptive 
attribute  by  which  it  directly  acquires  knowledge  ;  and 
a  faculty  of  will,  through  which  it  manifests  its  power 
to  produce,  or  to  try  to  produce  change. 

Our  sensations  and  emotions  are  not  dependent  upon 
the  will.  We  hear  the  sound  of  a  cannon,  whether  we 
will  to  hear  it  or  not ;  and  can  neither  avoid,  nor  pro 
duce  the  emotions  of  joy  or  sorrow  by  merely  willing 
it.  We  may,  by  effort,  bring  about  the  conditions  pre 
cedent  to  a  particular  sensation  or  emotion ;  but,  the  , 
conditions  being  the  same,  whether  they  exist  by  our 
own  act,  or  from  some  other  cause,  makes  no  difference 
as  to  the  effect.*  Our  knowledge  is  also  independent 
of  the  will.  We  cannot  know,  or  believe  anything  by 
simply  willing  to  know,  or  believe  it.  If  I  have  a  sen 
sation  of  seeing  a  tree,  I  cannot  by  any  act  of  will  be 
lieve  that  I  have  no  such  sensation,  or  that  I  have  the 
sensation  of  seeing  a  rock  instead.  So,  too,  if  in  the 
relations  of  my  ideas,  I  perceive  certain  truths,  as  that 
2  +  2  =  4,  I  cannot  at  will  disbelieve  or  not  know  such 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  n. 


10  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

truths.  By  will  I  can  bring  about  the  conditions  favor 
able  to  the  increase  of  knowledge,  but  I  cannot  tlms 
determine  what  shall  become  known.  I  may,  by  effort, 
remove  an  external  obstruction  to  sight  and  thus  be  en 
abled  to  see  what  was  behind  it ;  but  I  cannot,  by  will,* 
determine  what  it  is  that  I  shall  then  see.  So  also  I 
may  by  effort  arrange  and  compare  my  ideas,  so  that 
some  truth,  which  before  was  hidden,  will  become  ob 
vious  ;  but  I  cannot  will  what  that  truth,  when  discov 
ered,  will  be.  In  both  of  these,  and  in  all  other  cases, 
the  discovery  of  the  objects,  or  of  the  abstract  truths, 
and  the  consequent  addition  to  our  knowledge,  is,  in  the 
last  analysis,  a  simple  mental  perception  •  and  all  our 
efforts  to  acquire  knowledge  are  only  to  make  such 
external  changes  in  matter,  or  so  to  arrange  our  ideas, 
as  to  bring  the  truth  within  reach  of  the  simple  percep 
tive  attribute  of  the  mind. 

From  the  foregoing  it  appears  that  feeling,  whether 
in  ^sensation  or  emotion,  is  rather  &  property,  or  suscep 
tibility,  than  a  faculty  of  being.  So  also  the  ability  to 
acquire  knowledge  is  a  capacity,  or  a  sense,  rather  than 
a  faculty. 

Our  sensations,  emotions,  and  knowledge,  at  the 
time  being,  are  actual  present  existences,  in  common  with 
all  others  now  actually  existing, — independent  of  the 
will.  Having  become  existent,  whether  by  the  agency 
of  will,  or  otherwise,  such  existence  cannot,  by  will,  be 
changed,  in  the  present,  any  more  than  what  existed  in 
the  past  can  be  so  changed.  Whenever  we  seek  to  pro 
duce  any  change,  it  must  be  with  reference  to  the  future, 
and  this  is  always  by  will.  Whenever  by  the  exercise 
of  our  own  power  we  try  to  influence  the  course  of 
events,  we  will.  When  by  effort  we  recall  the  knowl- 


OF    MIND.  11 

edge  of  the  past,  the  recalling  is  still  an  event  future  to 
the  effort. 

There  are  other  attributes,  or  modes  of  mind,  which 
are  often  spoken  of  as  if  they  were  distinct  faculties,  or 
active  agents,  having  power  of  themselves  to  do  certain 
things.  In  this  category  we  may  embrace  memory, 
judgment,  reasoning,  imagination,  conception,  and  per 
haps,  also  association.  These  are  all  names  of  some 
form  of  knowledge,  or  of  some  mode  of  mental  action 
to  acquire,  or  reproduce,  it.  The  forms  of  knowledge, 
to  which  they  are  applied,  are  actual  present  existences, 
not  subject  to  the  will.  Our  memories  of  the  past,  our 
observation  of  the  present,  and  our  anticipations  of  the 
future  are  all,  when  reached,  but  present  knowledge. 
When,  from  any  cause,  the  knowledge  of  the  past,  the 
present,  or  the  future  is  perceived  by  the  mind,  it  is  a 
simple  mental  perception.  "When  we  make  effort  to 
produce  such  changes,  internal  or  external,  as  will 
bring  any  knowledges  within  the  mind's  view,  it  is  an 
act  of  will,  a  trying  to  do  something.  So  that,  in  all 
cases,  the  names  of  these  supposed  faculties  only  indi 
cate  actual  existing  knowledge,  or  its  acquisition  by 
simple  mental  perception,  or  by  acts  of  will  to  produce 
those  changes  which  will  bring  knowledge  within  reach 
of  this  simple  mental  perception.  These  acts  of  will 
differ  from  each  other  either  in  their  mode,  or  in  their 
object.  Memory,  for  instance,  is  but  a  condition,  and 
a  necessary  condition,  of  knowledge  of  the  past.  With 
out  it  such  knowledge  could  not  exist.  In  this  sense  it 
is  only  an  expression  of  one  form  of  our  knowledge. 
To  say,  I  remember  an  event,  is  to  say,  I  know  an  event 
in  the  past.  If,  from  any  cause,  an  event  of  the  past 
conies  before  the  mind  it  is  then  a  simple  mental  per- 


12  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING 

ception.  When  we  make  effort  to  bring  an  event  of  the 
past  into  the  mind's  view  we  call  it  an  exercise,  or  effort 
of  memory,  and  this,  of  course,  is  an  act  of  will,  a  trying 
to  do  this  thing. 

So  likewise  the  term  judgment  may  express  the 
mind's  conclusion  as  to  the  equality,  or  superiority  of 
one  thing,  or  method  as  compared  with  another ;  or  as 
to  the  truth,  or  error  of  a  proposition.  And  such  con 
clusion  is  a  simple  mental  perception  ;  while  any  effort 
in  comparing,  examining,  &c.,  by  which  we  seek  to 
bring  about  the  conditions  favoring  such  perception,  is 
called  an  exercise,  or  effort  of  judgment,  which,  is  an 
other  act  of  will. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  reasoning,  imagining,  con 
ceiving,  &c.  In  the  sense  in  which  these  are  spoken  of 
as  faculties,  or  powers,  they  are  but  names  of  varied 
modes  of  effort,  or  of  efforts  for  different  objects^  made 
by  the  same  unit-mind,  manifesting  its  power  to  pro 
duce  change  by  its  efforts,  or  acts  of  will. 

Whether  these  supposed  faculties  are  but  names  of 
varied  acts  of  will,  or  otherwise,  does  not  really  affect 
the  question  of  the  mind's  freedom  in  action;  for, 
whether  it  act  by  a  faculty  called  will,  or  by  a  faculty 
called  judgment,  would  not  affect  its  freedom  in  action 
so  long  as  the  faculty  by  which  it  thus  acted  pertained 
to  its  own  being.  If  the  question  were,  whether 
the  will,  considered  as  a  distinct  entity,  were  free,  it 
might  become  important  to  inquire  if  there  were  any 
coordinate  powers  of  mind  by  which  it  could  be  con 
trolled.  The  introduction  of  these  supposed  faculties, 
as  distinct  powers,  does,  however,  tend  to  complicate 
and  confuse  the  argument  as  to  the  mind's  freedom.  In 
confirmation  of  the  views  already  stated,  it  may  be  ob- 


OF  MIND.  13 

served,  that  if  acts  of  will  are  but  efforts  of  the  mind, 
and  these  faculties  are  exerted  by  the  mind,  it  follows 
that  they  but  indicate,  or  name  different  acts  of  will, 
or  efforts  of  the  same  unit  power — mind. 

In  further  illustration  that  they  are  but  names  of 
these  varied  efforts,  I  would  remark,  tliat  the  immediate 
object  of  every  act  of  will  is  to  move  some  portion  of 
the  body,  or  to  influence  mental  activity.  In  either 
case  we  are  conscious  only  of  the  effort  and  the  effect, 
and  though  we  speak  of  bodily  and  mental  efforts,  we 
still  recognize  them  all  as  efforts  of  the  mind.  In  so 
speaking,  we  distinguish  them  not  by  the  active  agent, 
which  is  the  same  in  all,  but  by  the  immediate  object 
of  the  effort,  or  by  the  subjects  of  it,  which,  in  some 
cases,  are  but  instruments  to  accomplish  remoter  ob 
jects.  Thus,  when  movement  of  the  body,  or  of  any 
portion  of  it,  is  the  object,  we  speak  of  bodily,  or  mus 
cular  effort,  and  subdivide  into  efforts  of  the  hand,  the 
foot,  &G.  ;  while  those  efforts,  of  which  the  mind  is  the 
subject,  we  designate  as  mental  efforts ;  and,  as  in  these 
we  are  not  conscious  of  distinct  members  as  the  subjects 
of  our  action,  we  subdivide,  or  classify  by  the  objects 
sought,  as  efforts  of  memory,  of  judgment,  of  imagina 
tion,  &c.* 

By  the  phrase  bodily  effort  we  cannot  mean  to  as 
sert  that  the  body  is  an  active  agent,  itself  making 
effort,  but  only  that  its  movement  is  the  object  of  the 
mental  effort;  and,  in  as  close  analogy  to  this  as  the 
case  permits,  the  expressions,  efforts  of  memory,  of 
judgment  and  imagination,  &c.,  only  signify  that  the 
object  of  the  effort  is  to  remember,  to  judge,  to  imagine, 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  HI. 


14:  FREEDOM    OF    MIND    IN    WILLING. 

&c.  In  all,  we  recognize  but  varied  efforts,  or  efforts 
for  different  objects,  by  tlie  same  unit-mind,  without 
the  intervention  of  any  other  powers ;  and  all  these 
efforts  are  but  manifestations  of  the  mind's  action,  va 
ried  in  conformity  with  the  objects,  or  changes  it  seeks 
to  produce. 

It  may  be  objected  to  this  dispensing  with  these 
alleged  faculties,  and  considering  them  merely  as  names 
designating  different  modes  of  effort,  or  efforts  for  dif 
ferent  objects,  that  they  sometimes  seem  to  act  of  them 
selves.  Of  this,  memory  is  the  most  marked  example. 
Our  memories  seem  to  rise  unbidden  before  us,  and  in 
an  order  which  we  do  not  control.  ISTow,  as  a  present 
sensation  is  known  by  means  of  simple  mental  percep 
tion,  without  effort,  it  may  so  happen  that  the  circum 
stances,  which  exist  without  our  agency,  may  also  bring 
the  knowledge  of  the  past  within  the  reach  of  this 
same  perception.  This  appears  to  be  effected  mainly, 
if  not  wholly,  by  means  of  association,  which  is  an  ar 
rangement,  or  classification  of  our  knowledge  in  con 
formity  to  some  observed  relation,  as  that  of  cause  and 
effect,  or  of  antecedent  and  consequent ;  or  of  some  re 
semblance,  in  which  last  may  be  included  similarity  as 
to  time,  or  place ;  and,  by  a  slight  extension,  this  will 
also  embrace  contiguity  in  time  and  space.  But  what 
ever  the  rule,  or  principle  of  association,  it  seems  that 
through  it,  an  idea,  or  sensation  in  the  present  may 
suggest  others  in  the  past  without  any  effort.  The  sen 
sation  I  now  have  of  a  tree  in  sight  recalls,  or  causes 
me  to  remember  a  sensation  I  had  last  week  of  a  tree 
then  in  sight ;  and  this  again  suggests  the  fruit  I  saw 
upon  it,  &G.  In  this  case,  through  external  agencies — 
agencies  not  of  the  mind — the  past  knowledge  has  been 


OF  MIND.  15 

brought  within  reach  of  the  simple  mental  perception. 
As  in  the  case  of  simple  sensation,  the  mind  has  been 
the  recipient  of  knowledge  without  any  active  agency 
of  its  own  ;  and  hence  the  case  affords  no  ground  to 
suppose  an  active  agency  in  its  memory,  or  in  any  other 
of  its  attributes. 

These  views  seem  to  justify  the  conclusion  that  the 
mind  has  but  one  real  faculty,  or  power  to  do  anything, 
and  this  faculty  is  designated  by  the  term  will  •  that 
with  this  power  it  has  a  susceptibility  to  feeling,  and 
also  a  capacity,  or  sense  of  simple  -mental  perception, 
through  which  it  becomes  the  recipient  of  knowledge  ; 
and  that  all  knowledge,  whether  the  result  of  prelimi 
nary  effort,  or  otherwise,  in  the  last  analysis  is  a  simple 
perception  of  the  mind,  and  that  all  preliminary  effort 
for  its  acquisition  is  only  to  bring  about  the  conditions 
essential  to  such  perception.  We  know  that  we  have 
certain  sensations  without  effort.  We  attribute  some 
of  these  to  the  instrumentality  of  the  bodily  senses ; 
but  the  sensation  is  in  the  mind ;  and  it  is  not  the 
bodily  sense  that  'knows  of  its  existence.  Nor  does  it 
require  any  act  of  will  to  know  it ;  on  the  contrary,  we 
cannot,  by  will,  avoid  knowing  it.  Here  then  is  a 
faculty,  or  capacity  of  knowing ;  of  simple  mental  per 
ception,  or  assimilation,  as  independent  of  the  will  as 
sensation  itself. 

'  To  proceed  one  step  further;  it  is  not  the  bodily 
sense  which  knows  the  difference  between  the  sensations 
of  black  and  white ;  or  of  sound  and  color ;  and  we 
still  are  not  conscious  that  to  know  this  requires  any 
effort.  If  we  regard  general  and  abstract  ideas,  in 
stead  of  sensations,  we  may  perhaps  without  previous 
effort  know  that  what  is,  is  ;  that  the  whole  is  greater 


16  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

than  its  part ;  that  two  parallel  lines  cannot  cross  each 
other  ;  but  we  do  not  thus  know  that  all  the  angles  of 
every  plane  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles  ;  to 
ascertain  this,  requires  effort.*  There  must  then  some 
where  be  a  point  at  which  acts  of  will  become  neces 
sary  to  our  acquisition  of  knowledge ;  but  the  mind 
cannot  by  such  action  determine,  or  vary  the  facts,  or 
its  own  conclusions  in  regard  to  them.  If  it  could,  it 
would  then  have  no  idea  of  absolute  truth.  The  last 
result ;  the  finality  of  the  process — the  assimilation — 
being  thus  independent  of  the  will,  must  come  by  the 
attribute  of  knowing,  i.  e.  by  simple  mental  percep 
tion  ;  and  the  object  of  the  effort  of  the  mind  is  to  re 
call  and  so  vary  and  arrange  either  its  previous  knowl 
edge,  or  things  external  to  it,  that  the  truths  sought 
will  come  within  the  range  and  scope  of  its  simple  per 
ceptive  power ;  such  effort,  however,  is  not  always 
needed,  sensation  sometimes  performing  this  office,  or 
the  truths  being  in  themselves  obvious  to  simple  per 
ception,  without  effort.  For  instance,  if  an  effort  to 
remember  is  the  effort  to  find  some  idea,  which  by  as 
sociation  will  recall,  or  lead  through  other  associations 
to  some  particular  knowledge  of  the  past,  this  sugges 
tive  idea  may  sometimes  be  brought  to  mind  by  exter 
nal  events  through  sensation,  without  our  effort ;  or  it 
may  arise  in  some  train  of  thought,  which  we  are  pur 
suing  for  another  purpose,  without  any  intention  or  any 
effort  to  recall  the  past  knowledge.  In  both  cases  the 
knowledge  of  the  past  is  brought  within  reach  of  the 
mind's  simple  perceptive  sense  without  effort  for  that 
end  ;  and  the  memory  appears  to  act  spontaneously  as 
an  independent  power.  The  facts,  however,  do  not 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  IV. 


OF  MIND.  17 

really  conflict  with  the  hypothesis  that  what  we  term 
an  effort  of  memory  is  but  a  mode  of  effort  of  the  mind, 
and  that,  in  its  efforts  for  recalling  the  past,  prying  into 
the  future,  or  investigating  abstract  truth,  it  but  exerts 
its  own  unit-power  in  different  modes,  and  does  not  put 
other  powers  in  action  for  that  purpose. 

"When,  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  truth,  or  of 
determining  action,  we  call  up  and  examine  other 
knowledge,  we  deliberate  ;  and  any  conclusion,  to  which 
we  thus  come,  is  a  judgment.  This  process  may  involve 
a  secondary  one  of  examining,  or  comparing  various 
simple  perceptions,  which  have  resulted  from  various 
vicjws  of  the  subject,  or  from  views  of  different  portions 
4pfr.  We  often,  and  sometimes  from  the  urgencies  of 
the  case,  examine  very  hastily,  while  at  others  we  do  it 
very  thoroughly.  This  leads  us  to  speak  of  hasty  con 
clusions  and  deliberate  judgments,  the  latter  being  the 
result  of  the  more  full  examination  of  our  knowledge 
relating  to  the  subject.  Though  this  judgment  is  a  re 
sult  of  an  effort  in  the  examination  of  our  knowledge, 
it  is  immediately  incorporated  with  and  becomes  a  por 
tion  of  it ;  in  this  respect  not  differing  from  facts,  or 
any  other  addition  to  our  knowledge,  acquired  by  mere 
observation,  or  simple  mental  perception  without  pre 
vious  effort.  From  the  nature  of  the  examination,  or 
of  the -subject  itself,  these  judgments  vary  from  the 
slightest  shade  of  probability  to  that  of  demonstrative 
certainty;  and  induce  various  grades  of  belief,  from 
that  of  mere  conjecture  to  confirmed  knowledge ;  but, 
such  as  they  are,  we  are  often  obliged  to  act  upon  them 
from  want  of  time,  or  of  ability  to  obtain  better. 

Of  knowledge,  obviously  an  important  element  in 
all  intelligent  cause,  I  will  further  remark,  that  I  deem 


18  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

the  term,  in  strict  propriety,  applicable  only  to  those 
ideas,  or  perceptions  of  the  mind  of  which  we  enter 
tain  no  doubt ;  and  that  it  is  applicable  to  such,  even 
though  they  are  not  conformable  to  truth ;  for,  if  we 
cannot  say  that  we  know  that  of  which  we  have  no 
doubt,  there  is  nothing  to  which  we  can  apply  the  term, 
and  it  is  useless.  This  is  liable  to  the  objection- that  we 
may  know  what  is  not  true.  Knowledge  is  a  certain 
condition  of  the  mind ;  and  there  is  no  difference  in 
this  condition,  whether  we  have* an  undoubted  belief 
that  T  x  6  —  41,  or  that  2x2  =  4;  the  knowledge  that 
2x2  =  4,  and  the  fact  that  2x2  =  4,  are  distinct ;  and 
to  make  the  latter  a  condition  of  the  former  is  to  define, 
or  describe  one  thing,  by  attributing  to  it  what  belongs 
not  to  it,  but  to  another  distinct  thing,  which  is  unphil- 
osophical,  and  leads  to  confusion. 

"When,  however,  I  speak  of  the  use  which  the  mind 
makes  of  its  knowledge  in  connection  with  its  faculty 
of  will,  it  is  generally  more  convenient  to  embrace,  in 
the  one  term,  all  its  opinions  and  beliefs  of  every  grade 
of  probability,  which,  in  the  absence  of  certainty,  it  is 
often  obliged  to  make  the  basis  of  action ;  and,  in  such 
cases,  I  use  the  term  with  this  latitude. 

Metaphysical  certainty  applies  to  that  order  of  ideas 
and  perceptions,  or  to  that  order  of  expressions,  which 
we  perceive  to  be  necessarily  true  in  their  own -nature, 
and  the  denial  of  which  involves  an  obvious  absurdity, 
or  contradiction. 


CHAPTEE   IY. 

LIBERTY,      OB      FREEDOM. 

THESE  terms  are,  perhaps,  as  well  understood 
as  any  by  which  we  could  directly  define  them. 
The  opposing  terms  are  compulsion,  control,  con 
straint  and  restraint ;  and  when  the  term  necessity, 
as  the  antithesis  of  liberty,  or  freedom,  is  applied  to 
the  action  of  the  mind  in  willing,  it  must  imply  that 
such  action  is  compelled,  controlled,  constrained,  or 
restrained. 

The  question  may  arise,  whether  that  which  con 
trols  itself  is  free,  or  whether  the  fact  of  its  being 
controlled,  even  though  by  itself,  renders  it  not  free. 
This  question,  in  our  present  inquiry,  concerns  the 
action  of  the  mind  in  willing ;  but  we  may  say, 
generally,  that  everything,  in  moving,  or  in  acting ; 
in  motion,  or  in  action,  must  be  directed  and  con 
trolled  in  its  motion,  or  in  its  action,  by  itself,  or  by 
something  other  than  itself;  and  that,  of  these  two 
conditions  of  every  thing  moving,  or  acting  ;  or 
in  motion,  or  action,  the  term  freedom  applies  to 
the  former  rather  than  to  the  latter ;  and  if  the  term 
freedom  does  not  apply  to  that  condition,  it  can 


20  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

have  no  application  to  the  acting,  or  the  action  of 
anything  whatever.  And  hence,  self-control  is  but 
another  expression  for  the  freedom  of  that  which 
acts,  or  of  the  active  agent ;  and  this  is  in  conformity 
to  the  customary  use  and  the  popular  idea  of  the 
term  freedom. 


CHAPTER   V. 

OF     CAUSE. 

THE  word  CAUSE  is  variously  used.  I  shall  use  it, 
in  what  I  deem  its  most  popular  sense,  as  meaning  any 
thing  which  produces  change.  In  this  sense,  four  dis 
tinct  kinds  of  causes  are  conceivable : 

• 

First,  such  as  are  both  unintelligent  and  inactive ; 
as  a  rock,  which  arrests  the  motion  of  a  moving  body, 
causing  it  to  stop,  or  alter  its  direction.  These  we  will 
call  inert  causes. 

Secondly,  unintelligent,  but  active  causes ;  as  a 
heavy  body  in  motion,  moving  others  in  its  course,  but 
which  does  not  intend,  or  know  the  effects  it  produces. 
These  are  motor  causes. 

Thirdly,  causes  which  produce  changes  by  their 
activity,  and  which  are  not  only  conscious  of  the 
changes,  when  produced,  but  can  anticipate  the  effects 
of  their  activity,  yet  do  not  plan,  or  design  the  means, 
or  modes  of  producing  these  effects ;  as  the  lower  forms 
of  intelligent  agents.  These  are  instinctive  causes. 

.Fourthly,  causes  which  produce  changes  by  their 
activity,  and  not  only  anticipate  and  know  the  effects 
of  their  activity,  but  design  and  form  plans  to  produce 
them.  Of  these  God  is  the  type.  They  are  originat 
ing^  or  designing  causes. 


22  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

We  might  have  divided  the  third  class,  making  two 
others,  one  merely  knowing  the  effects  after  they  oc 
cur  ;  the  other  only  anticipating  them ;  but  as  we 
know  of  none  in  which  the  two  are  un  combined,  there 
is  no  necessity  for  including  them  in  our  classification. 

I  mention  the  four  varieties,  just  named,  as  conceiv 
able  and  as  embraced  in  the  popular  notion  of  cause. 
Whether  they  are  all  real  causes  may  be  a  question  for 
further  inquiry. 

We  have  then,  of  material  causes,  two  kinds,  inert 
and  motor.  The  inert  becomes  cause  only  by  being 
first  acted  upon  by  the  active,  or  motor  cause.  Each 
motor  may  also  be  inert  cause  in  relation  to  other  mo 
tor  causes,  as  when  one  motor  impinges  against  another, 
the  effect,  in  some  cases,  may  not  be  influenced  by  the 
motion  of  this  other,  but  be  the  same  as  if  it  were 
inert. 

We  have  of  intelligent  causes  also  two  kinds,  the 
instinctive  and  the  designing.  The  former  of  these  also 
becomes  cause  only  by  being  first  acted  upon  by  the 
latter.  The  instinctive  must  first  be  informed  by  the 
designing  cause,  before  it  can  become  cause  itself.  The 
designing  may  include,  or  be  associated  with  the  in 
stinctive  ;  and,  sometimes  acting  without  exercising  the 
faculties  by  which  it  is  capable  of  designing,  manifest 
itself  at  such  times  only  as  instinctive  cause. 

A  definition,  or  statement  is  sometimes  spoken  of — 
I  think  improperly — as  a  cause,  of  which  the  logical 
consequence  is  the  effect ;  as,  for  instance,  the  equality 
of  the  four  sides  of  a  square  causes  those  opposite  each 
other  to  be  parallel.  Such  consequences  are  necessary, 
self-existent,  or  co-existent  truths ;  which  are  found,  or 
discovered,  and  not  caused. 


OF  CAUSE.  23 

"When  we  speak  of  timers  changes,  the  expression 
is  elliptical.  We  do  not  mean  that  the  changes  are 
effected  by  time  itself  as  a  cause  ;  but  by  those 
causes  of  which  the  effects  are  gradual,  and  percep 
tible  only  after  the  lapse  of  some  considerable  periods 
of  time. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

OP    THE    WILL. 

IT  is  not  unusual  to  speak  of  the  will  as  a  distinct 
entity,  possessing  and  exercising  certain  powers.  This 
produces  much  confusion  in  the  argument  on  the  "  free 
dom  of  the  will."  It  is  obviously  the  mind  that  wills, 
as  it  is  the  mind  that  thinks ;  and  we  might  with  as 
much  propriety  speak  of  a  thought,  which  thinks,  as 
of  a  will,  that  wills.  In  treating  of  mind  (Chap.  III.) 
I  have  already  stated  that  there  is  a  passive  state,  in 
which,  without  any  active  agency  of  its  own,  it  may  be 
the  subject  of  sensations,  and  the  recipient  of  knowl 
edge.  Also,  that  in  another  condition  it  seeks,  or  en 
deavors  to  produce  change  by  the  active  exercise  of  its 
power.  In  this  the  mind  is  said  to  will.  Of  these  two 
conscious  states  of  its  existence,  that  of  activity — that 
in  which  it  strives  to  produce  change — is  a  state  of  will 
ing.  The  mind's  willing,  or  its  act  of  will,  then,  is 
the  mind's  effort ;  and  WILL  is  the  power ',  or  faculty  of 
the  mind  for  effort.  It  is  not  a  distinct  thing,  or  in 
strument,  which  the  mind  uses,  but  is  only  a  name  for 
a  power,  which  the  mind  possesses ;  and  an  act  of  will 
is  that  action,  or  mode  in  which  intelligence  exerts  its 
power  to  do,  or  to  try  to  do,  and  manifests  itself  as 
cause.  The  willing,  or  act  of  will,  is  the  condition  of 


OF   THE   WILL.  25 

the  mind  in  effort,  and  is  the  only  effort  of  which  we 
are  conscious.  In  each  individual  the  efforts  are  all  by 
the  same  active  agent — by  the  intelligent  being — by  the 
mind — but  are  classified  as  bodily  and  mental  efforts  ; 
the  former  being  subdivided  into  efforts  of  the  arm,  the 
lungs,  &c.  ;  and  the  latter  into  efforts  of  memory,  of 
judgment,  of  imagination,  &c.* 

Mind — intelligence — has  no  property,  or  attribute 
by  which  it  can  be  inert  cause.  It  may  be  the  passive 
subject  of  change  by  other  active  agencies,  but  can,  it 
self  be  the  cause  of  change  only  by  the  exercise  of  its 
power,  i.  e.  by  an  effort.  The  existence  of  any  mind 
with  certain  powers,  may  be  among  the  circumstances 
which  other  intelligent  agents  take  into  consideration  in 
their  action,  but  it  is  only  by  its  own  effort  that  itself 
can  do  anything — that  it  can  of  itself  produce  any 
change,  or  be  CAUSE,  f 

The  mind  has  two  very  distinct  spheres  for  the  exer 
cise  of  its  activity — for  its  effort.  In  one  it  seeks  to 
acquire  knowledge ;  in  the  other  to  mould  the  future. 
In  the  first  it  analyzes,  combines  and  compares  its  ideas ; 
observes  the  present  external ;  recalls  the  past,  and,  by 
this  use  of  its  present  knowledge,  acquires  more.  It 
can  thus  not  only  learn  abstract  truths,  but  is  enabled, 
with  more  or  less  of  certainty,  to  anticipate  the  course 
of  events,  and  to  perceive  in  what  it  would,  by  effort, 
try  to  alter  that  course.  In  both  cases  it  seeks  to  affect 
the  future ;  but  in  one  case  the  effect  is  confined  to 
changes  in  its  own  knowledge,  to  ascertain,  or  find  what 
now  is,  has  been,  or  will  be ;  in  the  other,  it  seeks  to 
affect  the  succession  of  events,  to  change  what  now  is 
and  influence  what  will  be. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  V.  f  See  Appendix,  Note  VI, 

2 


26  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN  WILLING. 

By  means  of  its  prophetic  power,  the  mind  reaches 
into  that  future  in  which  by  effort  it  seeks  to  produce 
effects.  The  success,  or  failure  of  the  effort,  however, 
cannot  in  any  way  affect  the  effort  itself,  which  already 
has  been.  To  the  effects  which  the  mind,  by  its  ac 
tivity,  or  effort,  produces,  it  has  the  relation  of  cause, 
whether  these  effects  were,  or  were  not  intended. 

By  its  influence  upon  the  future,  however  proximate, 
by  its  active  agency  in  creating  that  future,  mind  mani 
fests  its  originating,  creative  power.  In  this,  its  finite 
sphere,  every  finite  intelligence,  of  every  grade — having 
the  faculty  of  will — is  a  finite  first  cause,  as  the  Su 
preme  Intelligence  is  Infinite  First  Cause,  in  its  sphere 
of  the  infinite.  The  inquiry  as  to  the  truth  of  this  po 
sition  is  involved  in  the  question,  does  the  finite  intelli 
gence  will  freely  f  which  we  are  hereafter  to  examine. 


CHAPTEK   VII. 

OF     WANT. 

4 

THE  term  want  is  probably  better^  understood  than 
any  word,  or  phrase,  which  we  could  select  to  define, 
or  explain  it.  Nothing  is  better  known  to  us  than  our 
wants.  We  must,  however,  in  the  use  of  the  term, 
carefully  distinguish  between  the  want  and  the  thing 
wanted;  between  that  present  feeling,  or  condition, 
which  is  a  state  of  want,  and  which  we  already  have, 
and  that  which  will  gratify  the  want,  and  which,  as 
yet,  we  have  not.  It  is  to  the  present  condition,  that  I 
apply  the  term.  We  feel  a  painful  sensation,  or  emo 
tion,  and  want  such  change  as  will  give  relief.  We 
find  that  we  are  ignorant  on  a  point  upon  which  knowl 
edge  is,  or  may  become  useful,  and  we  want  to  know ; 
and  when,  either  from  past  experience,  or  intuition,  we 
are  conscious  of  the  absence  of  a  sensation,  we  may 
want  that  sensation. 

A  sensation,  or  emotion  is  not,  in  itself,  a  want ;  it 
may  exist  without  any  corresponding  want.  We  may 
be  content  with  it  as  it  is.  Nor  is  the  perceived  ab 
sence  of  a  sensation,  or  emotion,  of  itself,  a  want ;  for 
we  may  be  content  with  such  absence.  To  get  rid  of 
an  unpleasant  sensation,  which  we  have,  or  to  induce 
an  agreeable  one,  which  we  have  not,  are  often  the 


28  FREEDOM    OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

things  wanted,  but  are  not  themselves  the  want.  "We 
have  the  sensation  of  hunger,  and  want  food,  but  nei 
ther  the  sensation,  nor  the  food  is  itself  the  want.  In 
this  case  the  food  is  the  thing  wanted,  and  the  sensation 
is  one  of  the  conditions  which  causes  us  to  want.  This 
sensation,  or  emotion,  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  is  to  us 
an  extension  of  knowledge,  which  requires  on  our  part 
no  effort. 

That  the  idea  of  change  is  essential  to  the  want  is 
very  obvious  in.  cases  in  which  some  absent  sensation 
is  the  thing  wanted.  When  a  present  sensation  is  the 
subject,  the  want  must  either  be  to  continue,  to  discard, 
or  to  modify  that  sensation  ;  and  even  the  want  to  con 
tinue  reqiiires  the  knowledge,  or  idea  of  possible  change. 
So,  too,  an  emotion  is  not  in  itself  a  want ;  a  joy,  which 
so  satisfies  the  mind  that  it  neither  desires,  nor  thinks 
of  change,  cannot  be  said  to  be  a  want.  And  there  is 
a  grief — a  holy  and  unselfish  grief — of  the  elevating 
and  hallowing  influences  of  which  we  are  so  conscious, 
that  we  would  not  banish,  or  modify  it.  Our  admira 
tion  may  be  so  pleasurably  excited  by  what  appears  to 
us  already  perfect,  that  no  change  is  suggested,  or  wanted 
in  the  sensation,  or  the  object.  Wonder,  of  itself,  in 
volves  no  idea  of  change,  and  no  want ;  and,  under  the 
emotion  of  awe,  we  reverently  shrink  from  all  thought, 
or  anticipation  of  change. 

Want  involves  an  idea  of  change.  We  must,  at 
least,  be  able  to  conceive  that  by  some  change  in  what 
exists,  the  pain  we  feel  will  be  discarded,  or  the  knowl 
edge  which  we  seek,  or  the  pleasure  we  covet  be  ac 
quired  ;  though  we  may  not  know  by  what  means  the 
desired  change  is  to  be  effected. 

The  existence  then,  of  this  idea  of  change,  seems  ii) 


OF  WANT.  zy 

all  cases  to  be  an  essential  element  of  want.  A  man, 
entirely  satisfied  with  things  as  they  are,  cannot  prop 
erly  be  said  to  have  a  want.  It  is  true,  we  say,  that 
such  a  man  wants  things  to  remain  as  they  are.  The 
expression  is  really  equivalent  to  saying  he  wants  noth 
ing,  i.  e.  does  not  want — he  is  content.  If  it  really 
expresses  any  want,  it  is  the  want  of  such  change  as 
will  ensure  things  remaining  as  they  are,  and  relieve 
him  of  any  apprehension  that  they  may  not  so  remain. 
This  can  amount  to  no  more  than  that,  to  make  certain 
the  continuance  of  some  things  as  they  are,  he  wants 
change  in  some  other  things  ;  which  is  to  say,  he  is  not 
satisfied  with  things  as  they  are. 

It  may  be  convenient  to  classify  wants  into  primary, 
or  those  the  gratification  of  which  is  the  final  object,  or 
end  in  view ;  and  secondary,  or  those  which  relate  only 
to  the  intermediate  'means  of  such  gratification,  and  to 
what  is  not  in  itself  wanted.  A  man,  in  imminent  dan 
ger,  to  get  to  a  safe  place,  may  want  to  walk,  though 
every  step  is  painful :  to  reach  the  place  of  safety  is 
the  primary  want ;  to  walk,  in  such  case,  the  second 
ary.  The  lust  of  power  is,  perhaps,  always  a  second 
ary  want ;  being  wanted  not  for  itself,  but  as  a  means 
of  gratifying  other  wants.  These  secondary  wants, 
however,  seem  also  -to  belong  to  the  mind's  perception 
of  the  means  of  gratifying  its  primary  wants,  and,  as 
such,  may  with  as  much  propriety  be  classified  with  its 
knowledge  as  with  its  wants.  They  are  knowledge,  or 
at  least  belief,  that  by  some  act,  perhaps  not  in  it 
self  wanted,  that  which  is  wanted  may  be  attained. 

Again,  wants  may  be  divided  into  natural,  acquired 
and  cultivated.  Natural  wants  are  those  which  are 
innate,  constitutional.  Hunger,  or  the  want  of  food  is 


30  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

a  natural  want.  But  we  may  want  to  be  hungry  for 
the  sake  of  the  enjoyment  which  attends  its  gratifica 
tion  ;  and  this  want  to  be  hungry,  supposing  it  to  grow 
out  of  the  acquired  knowledge  that  hunger  is  a  basis 
of  the  enjoyment,  may  be  said  to  be  an  acquired  want. 
If  we  take  exercise,  or  adopt  other  means  to  induce  the 
want  of  food,  such  want  may  be  said  to  be  a  cultivated 
want ;  and  from  this  low,  material  form,  our  cultivated 
wants  may  rise  to  the  most  ethereal  aspirations  of  our 
esthetic,  moral  and  religious  nature.  "We  speak  of 
them  merely  as  cultivated,  for  they  still  have  their  root 
in  the  constitution  of  our  being  ;  and  we  only  use  our 
knowledge  of  means  to  bring  them  out,  or  give  them 
vitality  and  force,  when  they  would,  otherwise,  be  dor 
mant  or  sluggish. 

That  which  we  have  spoken  of  as  a  secondary 
want,  is  a  consequence  of  our  perception  of  what  is 
necessary  to  gratify  a  primary  want ;  and  is  thus  the 
offspring  of  the  primary  want,  and  the  knowledge  of 
the  means  of  gratifying  it.  As  our  primary  wants  and 
knowledge  may  exist  without  our  volition,  the  conse 
quent  secondary  want  also  may.  "We  cannot,  by  an 
act  of  will,  directly  change  the  perceived  fact,  or 
our  knowledge  of  the  means  essential  to  a  particular 
result. 

The  natural,  or  innate  want  is  obviously  not  an 
effect  of  volition.  An  acquired  want  must  result  from 
some  increase  of  knowledge.  If  we  made  effort,  and 
increased  our  knowledge  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring 
this  want,  we  must  have  previously  wanted  it,  and  the 
acquired  want,  in  such  case,  was,  before  its  acquisition, 
the  thing  wanted,  and  not  the  want  which  .we  sought  to 
gratify.  If  we  accidentally  acquired  such  want  without 


OF  WASTT.  31 

intending  it,  it  has  come  without  our  willing  it ;  and 
though  it  may  have  been  a  consequence  of  our  efforts 
for  some  other  purpose,  it  is  such  a  consequence  as  we 
did  not  foresee,  and  for  which  we  have  made  no  effort. 
It  may  be  such  a  result  as,  had  we  foreseen  it,  we  would 
have  opposed ;  but  not  having  foreseen  it,  it  is  an 
effect,  which  we  have  neither  favored,  nor  opposed.  As 
the  influence  of  an  actually  existing  want  upon  the  will 
is  not  varied  by  the  source,  or  cause  of  its  existence,  it 
will  not,  in  treating  of  it  in  this  connection,  often  be 
necessary  to  allude  to  these  distinctions. 


CHAPTEE   YIII. 

OF     MATTER     AS      CAUSE. 

WHATEVER  changes  take  place  in  matter  must  arise 
from  its  motion,  either  massive,  or  atomic.  But  matter 
has  no  power  to  move  itself ;  and  hence  cannot  become 
cause  of  such  change,  except  by  first  being  in  motion ; 
and,  even  "if  imbued  with  locomotive  powers,  would 
have  no  knowledge  to  direct  its  movements  to  produce 
any  given  effect ;  and,  if  possessing  both  these  attri 
butes,  being  destitute  of  sensation  and  emotion,  would 
have  no  inducement  to  make  effort  to  produce  any  ef 
fect,  supposing  it  also  to  have  a  faculty  of  will.  It  is 
plain  then,  that  matter  cannot  be  an  originating  cause, 
even  of  its  own  movements ;  and  hence,  if  changes  in 
it  ever  had  a  beginning,  they  must  have  originated  with 
intelligence.  I  say,  if  they  ever  had  a  beginning ;  but 
we  have  still  to  inquire  whether  matter,  even  if  once 
put  in  motion,  could  produce  effects,  or  change  other 
matter,  or  be  affected,  or  changed  by  other  matter,  from 
the  mere  circumstance  of  its  being  itself  in  motion  ;  in 
short,  whether,  in  motion,  matter  becomes  cause^  origi 
nating  effects,  or  prolonging,  or  extending  the  effects  of 
any  intelligent  action,  which  may  have  put  it  in  mo 
tion.  The  mere  change  of  place  by  motion*  cannot 

*See  Appendix,  Note  VII. 


OF  MATTER   AS   CAUSE.  33 

be  considered  as  an  effect  of  motion,  but,  rather,  as  the 
motion  itself.  If  it  is  an  effect  of  motion,  cause  and 
effect  are  here  blended  in  one.  The  only  reason  why 
matter  in  motion  can  become  cause  of  any  other  effect 
than  that  which  took  place  immediately  on  the  com 
mencement  of  its  motion,  is,  that  by  time  and  motion 
the  circumstances  become  changed,  though  matter  can 
not  intend,  or  know  of  this  change.  If,  with  motion, 
it  can  becpme  cause,  then,  though  it  never  could  have 
commenced  its  own  motion,  yet,  as  in  considering  intel 
ligence  as  cause,  we  are  obliged  to  regard  it,  in  the  ab 
stract,  as  a  necessary  existence,  which  had  no  beginning, 
so  we  might  also  suppose  that  matter  had  been  in  mo 
tion  from  eternity,  and  hence  always  had  in  itself  caus 
ative  power. 

Whether  matter  in  motion,  can  of  itself  produce  ef 
fects,  seems  to  depend  mainly  on  another  question,  viz.: 
Does  matter  in  motion,  of  necessity,  have  a  tendency  to 
continue  in  motion,  or  to  stop  the  moment  it  is  relieved 
from  all  impelling  power  ?  If  I  throw  a  ball,  after  it 
leaves  my  hand  I  can  no  longer  control  it ;  I  make  no 
effort  to  control  it ;  it  continues  to  move  even  though 
my  attention  is  wholly  withdrawn  from  it.  But 
whether  it  does  so  move,  because  to  stop  requires  change 
which,  being  mere  matter,  it  cannot  effect ;  or  whether 
it  continues  to  move  in  conformity  to  a  law,  which  the 
Supreme  Intelligence  has  adopted  for  its  own  govern 
ment,  and  by  which,  in  certain  cases,  it  uniformly  exe 
cutes  the  decree,  or«  causes  certain  effects  to  follow  the 
effort  of  the  finite  mind,  even  after  that  effort  has 
ceased  ;  in  brief,  whether  it  continues  to  move  by  its 
own  inherent  material  force,  or  by  the  action  upon  it  of 

2* 


34  FREEDOM   OE  MIND  IN   WILLING. 

an  invisible  intelligence,  or  cause,  is  a  question,  which 
I  can  find  no  means  of  determining. 

A  particle  of  matter  can  begin  no  change  in  itself. 
When  put  in  motion  does  it  require  change  in  itself  to 
stop,  or  to  continue  its  motion  ?  If  the  former,  then  a 
moving  body  has  in  itself  the  amount  of  power  which 
is  required  to  stop  it ;  and  when  it  comes  in  collision 
with  another  body,  as  the  two,  by  a  law  of  metaphysi 
cal  necessity,  cannot  occupy  the  same  space,  some  effect 
must  .be  produced ;  for  instance,  if  moving  in  opposite 
directions,  in  the  same  line,  one  must  be  stopped,  or 
turned  back,  or  if  the  forces  are  equal  we  may,  perhaps, 
infer  that  both  must  of  necessity  stop. 

The  ball  thrown  obliquely,  after  leaving  my  hand, 
if  in  vacuum,  moves  in  a  parabolic  curve ;  or  if  resisted 
by  the  air,  in  an  irregular  curve.  This,  in  either  case, 
involves  a  continued  chcmye  of  direction,  and  it  may  be 
asked  how  matter,  undirected  by  intelligence,  can  con 
form  its  changes  of  direction  to  these  curves,  or  indeed, 
how  change  its  direction  at  all  ?  If,  however,  matter  in 
motion  has  power  to  stop,  retard,  or  change  the  motion 
of  other  bodies ;  or  is  liable  to  be  stopped,  retarded,  or 
changed  by  them,  it  is  conceivable,  as  has  been  sug 
gested,  that  such  change  may  be  produced,  and  the  pro 
jectile  kept  in  the  particular  curve  by  particles  of  mat 
ter  moving  through  space,  and  impinging  on  one  side 
of  the  projectile,  while  the  earth  protects  the  other  side 
from  similar  influence ;  once  admit  the  self-existent,  or 
inherent  force,  and  its  application  is  quite  conceivable. 
The  line  of  motion  is  changed  from  the  parabolic  to 
the  irregular  curve  by  the  body  itself  impinging  against 
the  particles  of  the  atmosphere. 

As  any  force  of  matter  in  motion  depends  upon  its 


OF   MATTER  AS   CAUSE.  35 

supposed  tendency  to  continue  in  motion  ;  and  it  being 
evident  that  some  of  the  bodies,  coming  in  direct  oppo 
sition  to  each  other  with  equal  force,  must  be  stopped ; 
and  that  matter  has  no  power  to  put  itself  in  motion 
again,  it  follows  that  the  power  of  that  portion  thus 
stopped  is  annihilated ;  and  the  power  of  matter  being 
thus  continually  diminishing,  must,  with  sufficient  time, 
be  eventually  destroyed,  or,  at  least,  be  reduced  to  an 
infinitesimal  quantity.* 

But,  if  matter  is  an  originating  cause,  or  power,  in 
dependent  of  intelligence,  it  must,  as  we  have  before 
shown,  be  so  in  virtue  of  having  been  in  motion  from 
all  eternity ;  and  hence,  there  having  been  sufficient 
time,  its  power,  from  the  cause  just  mentioned,  must 
have  been  destroyed.  It  follows  then,  that  any  powrer 
which  matter  may  now  have,  in  consequence  of  its  being 
in  motion — supposing  it  to  have  any — must  be  either 
the  result  of  its  having  been  put  in  motion  within  a 
finite  time  by  intelligence,  or  from  intelligence  subse 
quently  sustaining  and  renewing  the  motion,  which  may 
have  been  from  eternity.f  If  this  supposed  power  of 
matter  in  motion  were  left  to  act  uncontrolled  by  intel 
ligence,  its  blind  activity  would  accelerate  its  self-de 
struction,  and  must,  in  some  instances,  counteract  itself 
by  opposition,  while  in  others  its  effects  would  be  in 
creased  by  co-operation  of  the  forces.  The  observed 
uniformity  of  material  effects  is  inconsistent  with  this 
blind  exercise  of  power ;  indicating  that,  even  if  matter 
now  has,  or  has  had  power  of  itself,  as  cause,  to  produce 
effects,  it  has  been  subjected  to  an  intelligent  control — 
to  a  designing  cause — and  that  all  such  effects  are  now 
the  result  of  intelligent  action. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  VIII.  f  See  Appendix,  Note  IX. 


36  FREEDOM   OF  MIND  IN  WILLING. 

The  argument  on  this  point  may  be  thus  stated  : 
admitting  the  existence  of  matter  as  a  distinct  entity  ; 
and  that  it  has  always  existed,  we  know,  as  a  fact  of 
observation,  that  the  motion  of  one  portion  is  always 
affected  and  often  destroyed  in  producing  effects  upon 
other  portions.  JSTow,  further  admitting,  that  its  origi 
nal  state  was  that  of  motion,  it  must  always  have  been 
with  its  present  conditions,  or  the  original  conditions 
of  its  motion  must  have  been  changed.  If  it  com 
menced  with  the  present  conditions,  which  would  con 
tinually  lessen  its  motion,  then,  with  sufficient  time, 
and  an  eternity  must  be  sufficient,  its  motion  would  be 
destroyed,  or  reduced  to  an  infinitesimal  and  inappre 
ciable  quantity  ;  and  hence,  on  this  supposition,  the  in 
terference  of  some  other — of  intelligent  cause — must 
have  been  necessary  to  sustain  any  appreciable  power 
in  matter,  as  cause. 

And  if  we  adopt  the  other  hypothesis,  that  its  mo 
tion  was  originally  subject  to  other  conditions  than 
those  which  are  now  observed,  then  this  change  in  its 
conditions,  or  mode  of  action,  could  not  have  been 
effected  by  matter  itself,  but  must  be  attributed  to  in 
telligence,  as  the  only  other  conceivable  cause.  So 
that,  whether  matter  in  motion  was,  or  was  not,  origi 
nally  subject  to  its  present  conditions,  its  present  in 
fluence,  by  means  of  motion,  must  result  either  from 
intelligence  sustaining  its  motion,  or  from  its  controll 
ing  that  which  is  inherent.  And,  except  on  the  hypo 
thesis  that  the  tendency  of  matter  once  put  in  motion 
is  to  continue  in  motion  and  not  to  stop,  this  control 
by  intelligence  must  be  direct  and  immediate ;  for  upon 
no  other  hypothesis  •  can  intelligence  make  matter  a 
means  of  producing  or  even  of  prolonging  effects,  after 


OF   MATTER   AS    CAUSE.  37 

its  own  action  upon  it  is  discontinued.  The  matter 
would  stop  when  that  action  left  it,  and  no  change 
would  take  place  in  it  till  further  action  of  intelligence 
again  moved  it. 

Nor,  without  the  further  hypothesis  that  the  effects 
of  matter  in  motion  are  necessary,  can  we  either  sup 
pose  that  without  the  power  of  selection — without  pur 
pose — these  effects  would  either  be  uniform,  or  yet 
vary  in  any  respect.  They  must  arise  from  the  neces 
sities  of  the  case  ;  as,  for  instance,  the  impossibility  of 
two  impinging  bodies  occupying  the-  same  space ;  and 
some  effect  must  thus  be  absolutely  necessary,  or  none 
would  be  produced.  Still,  as  in  most,  if  not  all  con 
ceivable  cases,  more  than  one  effect  seems  possible,  as 
when  two  bodies  impinge,  both  may  stop,  or  one  turn 
back ;  some  power  which  can  select,  seems  essential  to 
the  uniform  ordering  of  the  effects.  This  consideration 
exposes  one  difficulty  in  supposing  that  which  is  unin 
telligent  to  be  cause  at  all ;  or  to  be  anything  more 
than  an  instrument  used  by  an  intelligent  cause.  Nor 
could  intelligence  make  matter  cause,  or  increase  its 
causative  power,  and  make  it  capable  of  selecting  its 
own  effects,  or  of  beginning  a  change,  or  a  series  of 
changes,  by  impressing  laws  upon  it  for  its  govern 
ment  ;  for,  to  be  governed  immediately  by  law,  pre 
supposes  a  knowledge  of  the  law,  i.  e.,  intelligence  on 
the  part  of  the  governed. 

If  all  matter  were  at  this  moment  quiescent,  it  could 
not  of  itself,  in  virtue  of  any  law,  begin  a  change.  To 
do  this  it  must  move  itself.  But  more  especially  could 
it  not  so  move  itself  as  to  produce  a  particular  effect  at 
a  particular  time.  This  would  require  it  not  only  to 
have  power  to  move  itself,  but  to  know  when  to  move, 


38  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN    WILLING. 

and  how  to  direct  its  movement ;  all  which,  as  matter 
is  inert  and  unintelligent,  is  contradictory,  and  hence 
impossible  even  to  infinite  power.  All  that  can  be 
meant  when  we  refer  an  event  to  the  "  nature  of  things," 
or  to  the  "  laws  of  nature "  is,  that  the  intelligence, 
which  causes  these  events,  is  itself  the  subject  of  laws, 
under  which  it  acts  uniformly  in  its  changes  of  matter ; 
and  all  those  changes  in  matter,  which  begin  to  be, 
must  be  attributed  to  the  action  of  spirit ;  and,  of 
course,  such  of  them  as  are  not  caused  by  a  finite,  must 
be  referred  to  the  action  of  the  Infinite  Intelligence. 
And  however  difficult  the  conception  may  at  first  ap 
pear,  there  seems  no  way  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  this 
constant  exercise  of  creative  energy  to  begin  change, 
or  produce  uniform  results ;  or  the  conclusion  that 
every  particle  which  floats  in  the  breeze,  or  undulates 
in  the  wave  ;  every  atom  which  changes  its  position  in 
conformity  to  the  laws  of  electrical  attraction  and  re 
pulsion,  or  of  chemical  affinities,  is  moved,  not  by  the 
energizing,  but  by  the  energetic  will  of  God.* 

From  these  views  we  may  infer  that  matter  cannot, 
without  the  aid  of  intelligence,  be  an  active  cause  even 
of  changes  in  itself.  It  can  produce  no  activity  in  itself, 
and  any  imparted  activity  is  diminished  in  producing 
effects ;  nor  can  it,  even  if  in  virtue  of  a  derived  ac 
tivity  it  becomes  an  active  cause,  select  and  effect  such 
changes  as  wrill  conform  to  the  will  and  wants  of  intelli 
gence  ;  nor  yet  directly  impart  activity  to  it  as  one 
body  appears  to  do  in  regard  to  another ;  though,  as 
desirable,  it  may  be  the  object,  and,  as  admitting  of 
desirable  changes  in  itself,  it  may  be  the  subject  of 
intelligent  action.  Any  observed  changes  of  matter 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  X. 


OF  MATTER  AS   CAUSE.  39 

vary  the  circumstances  presented  to  the  intelligence, 
which,  in  virtue  of  its  power  to  judge  of  and  to  con 
form  to  these  circumstances,  varies  its  action  accord 
ingly.  In  this  way,  one  intelligence  having  the  power 
to  produce  changes  in  matter,  may,  by  such  changes, 
influence  the  action  of  another  intelligence ;  but,  in 
such  case,  matter  is  but  a  means,  a  mere  instrument,  by 
which  one  intelligence  communicates  with,  or  produces 
effects  on  another,  and  not  a  cause  of  those  effects.* 

It  is  true  that  we  loosely  speak  of  matter,  or  of  cir 
cumstances,  as  cause  ;  and  to  this  we  have  been  led  by 
observing  the  uniformity  with  which  certain  phenomena 
follow  certain  conditions,  or  changes  of  matter.  We 
generalize  the  facts,  deduce  the  law,  and  then  ascribe 
directly  to  that  law  what  we  should  ascribe  to  the  in 
telligence  whose  uniform  action  makes,  or  is  the  ground 
of  our  inferring,  the  law.  Science  has  now  made  us 
so  familiar  with  these  generalizations,  called  secondary 
causes,  that  we  habitually  accept  them  as  the  ultimate 
of  our  inquiries,  without  tracing  them  to  a  first  cause, 
that  can  begin  a  series  of  effects. 

Even  supposing  that  matter  has  been  in  motion 
from  all  eternity  ;  that  the  tendency  is  to  continue  in 
motion  and  not  to  stop ;  and  consequently  that  it  has 
power  to  produce  effects,  and  that  this  power  continues 
undiminished  through  all  time ;  still,  as  these  effects 
must  be  necessary  effects,  and  matter  has  no  power  to 
vary  them,  they  may  be  of  necessity,  as  they  are  in 
fact,  uniform,  not  less  so  than  if  produced  in  conformity 
to  the  laws,  which  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  on  the 
other  hypothesis,  has  adopted  for  his  government  of 
matter ;  and  hence,  by  observation,  we  may  learn 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XI. 


40  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

equally  well  to  calculate  on  the  certainty,  or  proba 
bility  of  the  effects ;  and,  as  in  either  case  they  make 
but  a  part  of  the  circumstances  on  which  the  finite  in 
telligence  acts,  whether  the  causes  of  these  circum 
stances  are  material  or  intelligent,  can  make  no  differ 
ence  to  the  intelligent  cause,  which  is  to  act  in  con 
junction  with  such  other  causes,  or  in  view  of  the 
changes  by  them,  which  it  can  anticipate.  The  change 
of  circumstances  actually  produced,  or  expected,  will 
have  the  same  influence  on  the  mind  in  willing,  or  upon 
its  freedom  in  willing,  if  produced  by  the  one  cause  as 
if  by  the  other. 

If  all  matter  were  quiescent,  then  the  action  of  in 
telligent  cause  to  produce  change  on  it  would  be  to 
move  it.  If  it  were  in  motion,  producing  changes  in 
an  established  order,  which  the  acting  intelligence  could 
anticipate,  then  the  action  of  the  intelligent  cause  must 
be  to  vary  this  established  order  ;  and  the  problem,  as 
to  its  proper  action  to  produce  a  given  result,  becomes 
more  difficult  and  intricate,  requiring  the  exercise  of 
more  contrivance,  or  of  judgment  to  determine  that 
action  ;  but  whether  that  established  order  of  external 
changes  arises  from  the  necessary  effects  of  matter  in 
motion,  or  from  the  free  efforts  of  some  .intelligent 
cause,  designing  such  uniformity  as  will  admit  of  its 
effects  being  anticipated,  can  make  no  difference  to  the 
intelligence,  which  makes  effort  to  vary  that  known 
established  order. 

Again,  if  all  matter  were  quiescent,  it  could  not 
begin  motion  in  itself,  and,  of  course,  could  not  be 
cause.  If  it  were  in  motion,  it  could  not  determine  or 
select  its  own  effects-,  and  if  certain  consequences  of 
necessity  resulted,  it  would  have  no  power  to  vary,  or 


OF  MATTER   AS   CAUSE.  4:1 

to  produce  changes  in  those  consequences,  and  so  far 
could  not  be  cause.  That  which  produces  effects,  which 
it  cannot  but  produce,  must  be  constrained  to  produce 
them  by  some  power  which  it  cannot  control ;  and,  in 
such  case,  the  power  which  constrains  is  more  properly 
the  cause,  and  the  subject  which  is  constrained,  its  in 
strument. 

It  appears,  then,  that  matter  cannot  possibly  be 
cause,  except  by  means  of  motion  ;  and  whether  it  can 
then  become  cause  depends  upon  the  question,  as  to  its 
tendency  to  continue  in  motion,  or  to  stop,  which  is 
undetermined.  But  if,  with  motion,  it  has  power  to 
effect  change,  still,  every  application  of  that  power  to 
an  effect,  diminishes  it ;  and  as  to  make  matter  an  inde 
pendent  cause,  and  not  merely  an  instrument  used  by 
some  other  cause,  we  must  consider  it  as  having  been 
in  motion  from  all  eternity,  this  diminution  by  use 
must  have  exhausted  its  causative  power  ;  and  further, 
that  in  any  event,  if  matter  be  quiescent,  or  if  it 
be  in  motion,  producing  changes  in  a  necessary  estab- 
lishe$  order,  it  cannot  be  a  cause  of  changes  either  in 
that  quiescent,  or  yet  in  the  established  order  of 
changes ;  or  begin  any  new  series  of  changes ;  and 
that,  to  effect  such  changes,  or  to  begin  any  new  series 
of  changes,  spirit  is  the  only  competent  power  or  cause. 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

• 

OF  .  SPIBIT     AS      CAUSE. 

IN  postulating  thought  and  effort,  we  have  already 
assumed  the  inherent  activity  of  spirit,  that  is,  its  power 
to  produce  changes,  or,  at  least,  to  endeavor  to  do  so. 
If  we  have  now  showm  that  matter  cannot,  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  be  cause,  or  have  an  inherent  and 
inhering  power  to  produce  change,  or  that  it  could  not 
retain  such  power ;  and  that  it  cannot  originate  or 
begin  a  series  of  effects,  or,  of  itself,  have  retained  any 
power  to  continue  an  established  series,  or  yet  to  alter 
such  established  series ;  we  must  infer  that  spirit,  if  not 
the  only  real,  is  an  indispensable  cause.  • 

The  question  next  arises,  whether  this  causative 
power  of  spirit  is  all  concentrated  in  one  Supreme 
Intelligence,  or  whether  there  is  a  sphere  in  which  the 
finite  intelligence  is  also  an  active,  originating  cause, 
using  its  attributes  to  create,  or  change,  uncontrolled 
by  the  Infinite,  or  any  external  power-.  This  question 
is  closely  connected  with  the -main  question  which  wre 
are  to  consider,  and,  at  this  stage  of  the  argument,  we 
can  only  state  our  position,  viz. : 

That  one  Supreme  Intelligence  has  power,  and,  if 
He  chose,  might  exert  the  power  to  create  and  sustain 
all  that  exists  in  the  sphere  of  the  infinite.  But  that, 


OF   SPIEIT  AS  CAUSE.  43 

within  this  infinite  sphere,  He  has  allotted  a  finite 
sphere  for  the  action  of  finite  intelligences ;  that  He 
has  adapted  that  sphere  to  the  action  of  such  finite  in 
telligences,  by  furnishing  it  with  circumstances,  and  by 
conforming  His  own  actions  to  such  uniform  modes, 
that  the  finite  intelligence,  acting  either  through  the 
power  of  the  infinite  thus  uniformly  exerted,  or  with 
reference  to  His  future  action,  may  be  able  to  anticipate 
the  result  of  its  own  efforts,  and  to  direct  those  efforts, 
or  to  will,  accordingly.  The  human  intelligence  thus 
acts  freely  with  the  assent  and  co-operation  of  the  in 
finite  ;  unaided  by  which,  though  possessed  of  powers 
similar  to  the  infinite,  its  action  would  be  restricted 
within  very  narrow  limits. 

Let  us  more  particularly  note  this  similarity  of  kind 
and  variation  in  degree.  God  is  omnipotent ;  man 
has  finite  power.  God  is  omniscient ;  man  has  finite 
knowledge  of  the  present  and  past,  and  can,  in  some 
degree,  anticipate  the  future.  God  is  omnipresent ; 
man  has  faculties  by  which  he  can  make  everything 
within  his  finite  sphere  of  knowledge,  past,  present,  and 
future,  present  to  himself ;  and,  therefore,  may  be  said 
to  have  a  finite  presence  commensurate  with  his  knowl 
edge,  i.  e.,  man  has  a  finite  presence,  which  has  the 
same  relation  to  omnipresence,  that  his  knowledge  has 
to  omniscience.*  God  has  a  creative  power,  and  this 
seems  to  be  fully  embraced  in  the  faculties  of  thought,, 
imagination,  and  conception,  with  the  power  of  fixing 
the  thoughts,  imaginings,  and  conceptions,  in  His  own 
mind,  and  making  them  palpable  to  others,  either  im- 
•  mediately,  by  transferring  this  thought  and  imagery 
directly  to  finite  minds,  or  mediately,  by  depicting  or 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  Xtt 


44  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

forming  them  in  matter,  and  thus  making  them  palpa 
ble  to  other  intelligent,  percipient  beings.  If  matter, 
as  a  separate  substance,  exists,  and  was  not  created  -  by, 
but  is  co-eternal  with  intelligence,  then  all  the  creative 
power  of  God,  as  manifested  in  the  material  universe, 
may  be  confined  to  mere  changes  in  matter  ;  and  man 
has  the  same  power  in  a  finite  measure.  If  there  is  no 
such  separate  existence  as  matter,  then  material  crea 
tion  is  but  the  imagery  of  the  mind  of  God  made  palpa 
ble  to  us ;  and  man  here,  also,  has  the  same  creative 
power  in  a  finite  measure.  The  creation  of  matter,  as 
a  substance  distinct  from  spirit,  seems  to  be  entirely 
beyond  the  power  of  man.  He  has  no  faculty  even  to 
conceive  of  any  possible  mode  of  such  creation.  But, 
as  all  material  phenomena  can  be  as  well  accounted  for, 
without  supposing  matter  to  be  created,  by  either  of  the 
two  modes  just  suggested,  i.  e.,  either  by  considering 
matter  as  co-external  with  spirit,  or  as  an  emanation,  or 
a  mere  effect  of  the  action  of  intelligence,  we  cannot, 
from  its  existence  or  phenomena,  infer  that  it  was 
created.  And  if  we  cannot  conceive  of  any  possible 
mode  of  its  creation,  nor  infer  such  creation  from  its 
existence,  nor  from  any  of  the  phenomena  of  its  exist 
ence,  we  can  have  no  proof  that  any  being  possesses 
the  power  to  create  it ;  and  the  phenomena  of  the 
material  creation  furnish  no  proof  of  any  great  attri 
bute  of  the  Infinite  mind,  which  is  not  also  found,  in 
some  degree,  in  the  finite. 

Whether,  then,  we  adopt  the  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  hypotheses  of  creation  just  alluded  to,  the  creative 
power  of  any  being,  so  far  as  we  can  have  any  knowl 
edge  of  it,  is  all  embraced  in  these  two  powers,  to  both 
of  which  knowledge  is  a  prerequisite, — first,  that  of 


OF   SPIRIT  AS   CAUSE.  4:5 

thinking,  imagining,  or  conceiving  the  forms,  appear 
ances,  relations,  and  changes,  which  constitute  creation  ; 
and  secondly,  that  of  impressing  these  forms,  and  ap 
pearances,  and  relations,  and  changes  upon  its  own  and 
upon  other  minds.  The  finite  mind  has  both  these 
powers  in  a  limited  degree,  and,  we  should  say,  the 
latter  in  less  proportion  than  the  former. 

The  finite  intelligence  can  collect  all  within  its  sphere 
of  knowledge,  and,  by  analyzing  and  recombining,  form 
for  itself  such  a  new  creation  at  will,  as,  on  delibera 
tion,  its  judgment  or  fancy  m'ay  dictate.  It  forms  this 
creation  first  in  idea,  in  its  own  mind,  and  then  decides 
whether  or  not  to  make  further  effort  to  give  perma 
nency,  or  outward  actuality,  to  these  internal  creations. 
The  limit  of  its  knowledge  is  the  boundary  of  that 
finite  sphere,  in  which  the  finite  intelligence,  with  its 
co-ordinate  finite  presence,  is  creative  with  its  finite 
power  and  its  fallibility,  as  the  Supreme  Intelligence, 
with  its  omnipresence,  its  infinite  power  and  its  infalli 
bility,  is  creative  in  its  infinite  sphere. 

Every  time  a  finite  intelligence,  by  an  act  of  will, 
forms  a  conception  of  thought,  things,  and  circumstan 
ces,  in  new  combinations,  or  in  new  relations ;  that  is, 
every  time,  by  effort,  he  conceives  change  in  the 
phenomena  within  his  finite  sphere  of  knowledge,  it  is 
to  him  a  new  creation  of  his  own,  which,  by  other 
efforts,  other  exercise  of  will,  other  creations,  he  may, 
at  least  in  some  cases,  make  palpable  or  depict  to  other 
intelligences. 

I  will  add  that  this  creative  power  is  exerted  by  the 
finite  in  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  conceive  of  its 
exercise  by  the  Infinite  Intelligence,  and  under  the  same 
conditions.  Either  must  exert  the  power  from  a  desire 


4:6  FEEEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

to  produce  some  change,  from  a  feeling  of  want.  By 
means  of  its  knowledge,  or  by  the  exercise  of  its  know 
ing  faculties,  it  is  enabled  to  form  conceptions  of  the 
effects  of  its  contemplated  efforts  before  it  puts  them 
forth,  and  to  vary  these  conceptions  till  it  finds  one 
adapted  to  the  want ;  and,  in  the  case  of  the  finite 
mind,  one  which  it  supposes  is  within  the  scope  of  its 
finite  means  and  power  to  actualize  by  its  finite  efforts. 
This  often  makes  a  very  complicated  problem,  in  which 
all  the  powers  of  the  mind  find  an  appropriate  and  im 
proving  exercise.  It  is  in  the  mind's  preconceptions  of 
the  effects  of  its  efforts,  in  relation  to  its  previous  wants, 
that  it  finds  the  reason  for  its  action. 

It  may  be  said,  that  the  creative  power  in  finite  in 
telligences  is  of  a  secondary  character,  and  limited  to 
producing  changes,  or  new  combinations,  in  the  crea 
tions  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence.  In  regard  to  mat 
ter,  if  a  distinct  entity,  this  is  merely  saying  that  we 
mould  our  thoughts,  or  conceptions  in  the  same  mate 
rial  which  God  has  previously  used  for  a  like  purpose. 
Any  of  us  can  imagine  a  landscape,  and  vary  it  as  we 
choose.  We  can  even  imagine  a  universe,  and  one 
varying  from  that  which  is  the  subject  of  our  observa 
tion.  "We  can  conceive  of  one  in  which  all  the  bodies 
should  be  in  the  form  of  cubes,  cones,  double  cones, 
or  prisms,  &c.,  &c.,  and  all  stationary,  or  moving  in 
orbits,  hexagonal,  or  epicycloidal,  &c.,  &c. ;  and  this, 
for  the  time  being,  is,  to  him  who  conceives  it,  a  new 
creation,  perhaps  distinguishable  from  that  creation 
which,  not  resulting  from  his  own  efforts,  is  without 
him,  only  by  the  fact  that  one  is  subject  to  be  changed 
or  annihilated  by  his  own  effort  or  will,  or  by  his  ceas 
ing  to  will,  and  the  other  is  not.  If  the  material  uni- 


OF   SPIKIT  AS   CATJ8E.  47 

verse  is  but  the  thought  and  imagery  of  the  mind  of 
God,  made  directly  palpable,  it  no  doubt  is  in  the  same 
manner  subject  to  change  and  annihilation  by  an  act 
of  His  will,  or  a  suspending  of  it.  So  far  as  the  indi 
vidual  is  concerned,  the  imagery,  which  he,  by  his 
finite  powers,  has  willed  into  existence,  is,  while  he  so 
wills  its  existence,  a  real  creation.*  But  when  we  at 
tempt  to  transfer  this  imagery  of  our  own  to  other 
minds,  we  find  that  our  power  of  doing  so  is  very  limit 
ed  in  regard  to  the  amount  of  imagery  we  can  so  trans 
fer;  the  completeness  or  precision  of  the  transferred 
images,  and  the  number  of  other  minds  upon  which  we 
can  impress  them.  Though  we  may  have  created  the 
imagery  by  a  direct  act  of  will,  we  cannot  thus  transfer 
it  to  other  minds,  but  only  by  slow,  circuitous  and  ten 
tative  processes  or  efforts ;  some,  however,  doing  it  with 
much  more  facility  than  others. 

We  can,  by  effort,  change  matter  with  more  or  less 
of  accuracy,  in  conformity  to  certain  ideas  in  our  minds ; 
and  the  change,  under  certain  conditions,  will  be  im 
pressed  on  the  minds  of  some  others.  The  rudest  and 
least  gifted  intellect  can  do  something  of  this ;  while 
superior  genius  is  able,  not  only  to  conceive  of  the 
grand,  the  beautiful,  the  tranquil,  or  the  terrific,  but  to 
make  these  creations  recognizable  and  enduring  by  so 
portraying  them  in  language,  picturing  them  on  can 
vas,  or  carving  them  in  marble,  that  they  will  long  be 
palpable  to  many  other  minds.  But,  to  make  the  con 
ceptions  of  a  Eaphael  thus  palpable,  requires  an  almost 
countless  number  of  efforts,  before  the  pre-requisite  con 
ditions,  by  which  it  is  perfected  and  exhibited  on  the 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  SHI. 


48  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

canvas,  are  completed — before  Ms  creation  becomes  a 
palpable,  tangible  reality  to  other  men  ;  though  superior 
intelligences  may  have  perceived  the  original  forma 
tion,  as  it  existed  in  his  mind,  without  the  aid  of  the 
external  means,  by  which  it  penetrates  through  our  ob- 
tuseness. 

The  finite  intelligence  may  create  new  forms  and 
new  combinations.  It  can  conceive  a  pleasing  land 
scape,  and  therein  create  not  only  new  combinations, 
but  new  thought  and  new  beauty,  and  exhibit  it  to 
others.  The  poet,  through  the  medium  of  language, 
does  this.  The  painter,  with  his  pencil,  also.  The 
florist,  with  his  spade,  does  the  same.  All  create  new 
forms,  new  combinations,  new  beauty ;  and,  by  their 
different  modes,  impress  their  creations  on  other 
minds. 

The  efforts  of  the  florist  are  most  palpably  made  in 
reference  to  the  aid  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  acting 
by  uniform  modes,  of  which  he  has  acquired  a  knowl 
edge,  and  by  which  his  own  designs  are  executed, — 
his  finite  efforts  made  effective.  But  the  painter  is 
really  hardly  less  dependent  upon  this  same  extrinsic 
aid,  for  the  .successful  exhibition  of  his  ideal  creations, 
in  a  tangible  form,  to  others. 

The  poet,  though  still  dependent  on  this  uniformity 
for  the  means  of  making  his  conceptions  palpable,  seems 
to  be  less  so  than  either  of  the  others.  There  is  less 
intervening  between  his  conceptions  and  our  percep 
tions  of  them.  He  issues  the  fiat,  "  let  there  be  light," 
and  his  creatjon  flashes  upon  us.  It  is  in  the  purest 
forms  of  poetry — those  in  which  the  words  seem  to 
vanish  and  leave  the  unalloyed  thought  and  imagery 
of  the  poet,  as  if  flowing  directly  from  his  mind 


OF  SPIRIT  AS   CAUSE.  49 

to  our  own — that  we  can  most  readily  realize  that 
mode  of  creation  in  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  which 
we  have  supposed  to  be  a  direct  impression  of  the 
creative  conceptions  of  the  Infinite  upon  the  finite  mind. 
Whether  our  mental  creations  are  made  palpable  by 
means  of  some  direct,  but  unperceived  connection  be 
tween  our  efforts  and  their  outward  manifestation,  or 
through  the  uniform  modes  of  God's  action,  is  not 
material  as  to  the  question  of  our  power  to  make  them 
manifest.  If  such  manifestation  only  follows  our  efforts, 
it  identifies  the  power  to  produce  the  effect,  with  our 
power  to  make  the  effort.  But  the  finite  mind,  in  its 
present  condition,  can  thus  impart,  and  give,  even  a 
qualified  durability  to  a  very  small  portion  of  its  con 
ceptions.  "Whether,  in  a  farther  stage  of  its  progress, 
this  means  of  imparting 'to  others  will  be  increased,  as 
its  present  disproportion  to  our  powers  of  conception 
would  seem  to  indicate,  is  a  question  not  within  the 
scope  of  our  present  inquiry  ;  and  we  content  ourselves 
with  the  conclusion,  that  here  and  now,  the  finite  mind 
of  man,  made  in  the  image  of  God,  has  finite  powers 
corresponding  to  omnipotence,  omniscience,  omnipres 
ence,  and  other  creative  attributes  of  the  Infinite  ;  and, 
so  far  as  we  can  know,  exerts  these  powers  in  the  same 
mode  and  under  the  same  conditions ;  that  is>  it  has 
wants,  it  has  a  faculty  of  effort,  or  will,  by  which  to 
endeavor  to  gratify  those  wants  ;  and  it  has  knowledge, 
which  enables  it  to  form  preconceptions  of  the  future 
effects  of  those  efforts,  and  to  judge  as  to  what 
effort  to  make,  and  thus  determine  that  effort  and 
the  consequent  effect,  as  in  itself  A  CREATIVE  FIRST 

CAUSE.* 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XIV. 
3 


50  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

Whether  the  finite  mind,  in  the  exercise  of  these 
powers,  is  independent  of,  or  is  controlled  by  the  In 
finite,  or  by  other  powers,  or  forces,  is  a  question  in 
volved  in  that  of  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing, 
which  we  will  now  proceed  to  consider. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PBEEDOM      OF      INTELLIGENCE. 

As  the  will  is  very  frequently  spoken  of  as  a  distinct 
.  entity,  so,  as  a  logical  consequence,  it  is  not  uncommon 
to  speak  of  the  "  freedom  of  the  will."  This  opens  the 
way  for  the  argument,  that  the  will  is  dependent  upon, 
and  is  controlled  by  the  mind  ;  and,  hence,  is  not  free, 
producing  much  confusion  ;  whereas,  the  real  question, 
and  that  which  involves  the  important  consequences  of 
human  responsibility,  regards  only  the  freedom  of  the 
being  that  wills — whose  responsibility  is  supposed  to  be 
affected  by  the  condition  of  freedom,  or  necessity.  The 
inquiry  should  then  be,  not  is  the  will  free,  but,  does  the 
mind,  the  soul,  will  freely  f 

In  reference  to  this  question,  it  is  not  material 
whether  the  effect  we  seek .  to  produce  when  we  will, 
follows  our  volition,  or  not.  We  may  not  have  the 
power  to  do  what  we  will,  and  yet  may  freely  will  to 
do.  There  may  be  no  such  connection  as  we  supposed 
between  the  volition  and  the  intended  result ;  our 
knowledge  may  have  been  deficient,  our  deductions 
erroneous.  If  that  result  was  in  any  degree  dependent 
on  other  causes  or  forces,  as  the  motion  of  matter,  or 
the  action  of  other  intelligences,  we  may  have  been  mis 
taken  in  our  anticipations  of  those  movements  or  ac- 


52  FREEDOM    OF   MIND    IN    WILLING. 

tions ;  or  have  made  wrong  inferences,  as  to  their  in 
fluence  or  effects.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  manifest 
that  the  subsequent  result  cannot  control  the  volition, 
which  already  is,  or  has  been  ;  the  actual  effect  cannot 
control  its  cause,  after  that  cause  has  been  exerted.  Of 
that  mysterious  connection  between  the  effort  and  its 
consequences,  we  know  nothing  beyond  the  fact  that, 
under  certain  conditions,  the  latter  more  or  less  uni 
formly  follow  the  former.  If,  in  a  normal  and  natural 
condition  of  my  being,  I  will  to  move  my  hand,  it 
moves.  If  I  will  to  throw  from  it  a  ball,  the  ball 
moves  and  even  continues  to  move  after  my  mind  has 
ceased  to  act  in  regard  to  it.  Now,  whether  the  move 
ment  of  my  hand,  and  of  the  ball,  while  in  it,  arises 
from  some  direct,  but  latent  connection  between  my 
mind  and  my  hand  ;  and  whether  the  ball  continues  to 
move,  after  my  mind  has  ceased  to  will  in  regard  to  it, 
in  virtue  of  some  power  inherent  in  matter  or  some 
necessary  principle  of  motion ;  or  whether,  all  beyond 
my  willing  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  action  of  some  other 
intelligence,  ever  present  and  ever  active  and  efficient, 
are  questions  which  I  have  already  alluded  to  as  unde 
termined.  The  last  we  know  of  our  own  agency  in 
producing  change,  is  our  act  of  will,  or  effort  to  effect 
it.  We  know  that  the  change  follows  this  willing  with 
more  or  less  of  certainty  ;  but  why  it  so  follows  we  do 
not  know.  We  may  intuitively  or  experimentally  fore 
know  what  effects  will  probably  follow  certain  efforts, 
but,  beyond  the  effort,  we  know  nothing  of  ourselves  as 
the  cause  of  these  effects. 

for  every  intelligent  act,  or  every  act  of  an  intelli 
gent  being,  as  such, -there  must  be  an  object,  a  reason 
for  its  acting,  rather  than  its  not  acting.  To  suppose  in- 


FREEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  53 

telligence  to  act,  and  yet  not  know  any  object  or  reason 
for  its  acting,  is  to  suppose  it  to  act  without  intelli 
gence,  and  if  there  is  no  intelligence  involved,  or  con 
cerned  in  the  act,  the  action,  if  any  there  can  be,  must 
be  wholly  independent  of  the  intelligence ;  or,  which 
is  the  same  thing,  of  any  exercise  of  intelligence  by  the 
intelligent  agent  or  being ;  which,  in  the  case  of  its 
willing,  would  involve  the  contradiction  of  its  being 
passive  in  its  own  action.  It  would  also  make  a  case  in 
which  that  which  is  unintelligent  moves  itself. 

To  suppose  any  being  to  will  any  particular  act, 
and  yet  know  no  reason  or  object  for  that  act,  is  either 
to  suppose  a  change,  or  an  effect,  without  any  cause ;  or 
that  this  act  of  will  is  directed  by  some  cause,  without 
the  being  that  wills.  But,  as  will  hereafter  more  fully 
appear,  there  is  no  possible  way  in  which  any  power, 
external  to  the  agent  that  wills,  can  affect  the  direction 
of  -this  willing,  except  by  causing  him  to  know  some 
reason,  or  object  for  such  direction. 

Intelligence  in  acting,  then,  must  have  an  object. 
The  object  of  its  action  must  be  an  effect  which  it  wants 
to  produce.  The  mind,  acting  intelligently,  will  not 
make  an  effort,  or  will  to  produce  an  effect,  which  it 
does  not  want  to  produce.  Every  volition,  then,  must 
arise  from  the  feeling  or  perception  of  some  want, 
bodily,  or  mental ;  otherwise  there  is.  no  object  of 
effort.  This  want  may  be  that  of  food,  of  knowledge, 
of  muscular  movement,  or  of  mental  effort,  in  some  of 
the  various  modes  before  indicated,  or  merely  a  want 
of  change  from  the  present  state  of  things.  But  though 
the  want  suggests  change,  it  does  not  indicate  the  mode 
of  effecting  it. 

A   mere   sensation,  or  perception,  attended  by  a 


54  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

desire  for  change,  but  with  no  knowledge  as  to  the 
mode  of  producing  that  change,  points  equally  in  all 
directions,  furnishing  to  the  mind  no  indications  of  the 
means  of  effecting  the  change.  It,  so  far,  furnishes  no 
ground  or  reason  to  the  mind  to  suppose  that  effort  is 
the  means,  or  that  any  particular  effort  will  tend  to 
the  desired  effect,  any  more  than  to  the  contrary.  The 
mind  must  have  some  additional  knowledge  as  to  the 
mode.  "With  the  want,  which,  as  before  stated,  is  com 
pounded  of  feeling  and  the  knowledge  that  some  change 
is  desirable,  must  be  associated  the  further  knowledge 
of  what  change,  and  the  means  of  effecting  that  change. 
The  knowledge  that  effort  is  the  means  by  which  we 
must  effect,  change  generally,  is  innate ;  as  probably 
also  all  that  knowledge  which  is  essential  to  existence, 
and  especially  that  which  is  thus  essential  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  being.  If  the  first  want  is  that  of  breath,  or 
of  food,  the  knowledge  of  the  means  of  gratifying  it 
probably  accompanies  the  want.  The  infant  breathes, 
and  knows,  at  least,  how  to  swallow,  if  it  does  not  also 
know  how  to  find  the  source  of  its  nourishment  in  its 
mother's  breast,  and  later  in  life  want  is  developed, 
with  which,  without  any  agency  of  our  own,  is  as 
sociated  the  knowledge  of  the  mode  of  its  gratifi 
cation. 

Again,  as  the  circumstances  under  which  the  want 
may  exist  may  be  very  different,  there  must  be  some 
power  of  adaptation  to  them.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a 
man  being  hungry,  knows  that  by  walking  a  few  steps 
to  the  north  he  can  find  bread  to  relieve  his  want ;  but 
he  becomes  hungry  when  he  is  in  a  different  position, 
requiring  him  to  walk  a  few  steps  south  to  get  the 
bread.  The  first  step,  in  such  cases,  when  the  knowl- 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  55 

edge  is  not  an  immediate  mental  perception,  is  to  ex 
amine  the  circumstances.  This  is  a  preliminary  effort 
of  the  mind  to  obtain  more  knowledge  with  which  to 
direct  its  final  action.  Bnt  this  effort  also  requires 
some  previous  knowledge.  We  must  know  something 
before  we  will  to  know  more.  As  preparatory  to  such 
effort,  we  must  at  least  know  that  more  knowledge  is 
desirable,  and  that  to  examine  is  the  mode  of  acquiring 
it.  And  this  previous  knowledge  must  either  be  intui 
tive,  or  acquired  through  the  senses  without  effort.  In 
the  latter  case  its  acquisition  would  be  merely  acciden 
tal,  and  the  mere  passive  observation  of  events  is  so  en 
tirely  different  from  an  effort  to  examine,  that  the  latter 
could  never  be  inferred  or  learned  from  the  former ; 
and  if  so,  then  the  knowledge  that  we  must  examine 
the  circumstances,  in  order  to  know  how  to  adapt  our 
final  effort  to  them,  is  probably  intuitive.  If  it  is  not, 
the  infant,  in  seeking  its  mother's  breast,  must  do  it  by 
knowledge  imparted  to  it  in  each  particular  case  as  it 
occurs,  and  adapted  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
that  case.  If  we  suppose  it  only  to  know  the  mode 
of  muscular  movement,  and  that,  under  any  circum 
stances,  it  may  succeed,  by  moving  its  head,  or  turn 
ing  its  eyes,  first  in  one  way  and  then  in  another,  till 
it  finds  the  right  direction,  such  movements  of  the 
head,  or  of  the  eye,  are  but  modes  of  examining 
the  circumstances  in  regard  to  which  there  must 
have  been  some  pre-existing  knowledge,  at  least, 
that  by  such  movements  there  is  a  possibility  of 
finding  the  object  sought,  i.  e.,  must  know  that  an 
effort  to  examine  is  the  mode  of  attaining  its  ob 
ject.  If  the  mind  has  no  knowledge  in  any  degree, 
—no  expectation — that  by  effort  it  can  accomplish  the 


56  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

object,  it  is,  to  it,  the  same  as  if  it  had  no  object  of  its 
effort.  It  may  be  only  the  knowledge,  that  we  need 
more  knowledge  properly  to  direct  the  effort  to  gratify 
the  want,  or  that,  by  effort,  we  may  possibly  effect  some 
change,  which  change  may  possibly  be  a  desirable  one. 
With  such  certainty,  probability,  or  hope,  we  make  the 
effort,  i.  <?.,  we  will. 

We  have  here,  then,  in  want  and  knowledge  com 
bined,  the  source  in  which  volitions  originate,  and  the 
means  by  which,  mind,  in  virtue  of  its  intelligence, 
gives  them  direction.  Without  want,  the  mind  would 
have  no  object  to  accomplish  by  effort ;  without  knowl 
edge,  it  would  have  no  means  of  directing  its  efforts  to 
the  accomplishment  of  that  object.  Without  want  and 
knowledge,'  the  mind  would  never  manifest  itself  in 
effort,  or  self-action ;  and  hence,  if  without  them  it 
could  be  cause  at  all,  it  would  be  only  blind  cause,  like 
matter.  Its  want  furnishing  an  object  of  action,  and 
its  knowledge,  enabling  it  to  determine  what  action,  are 
all  that  distinguish  the  mind  from  unintelligent  cause,  or 
force ;  for  even  if  without  them  it  could  will  at  all,  it 
would  will  blindly,  as  matter  moves,  and  without  any 
more  reference  to  its  effects.  As  want  is  compounded 
of  feeling  and  knowledge,  these  sources  of  volition  are 
resolvable  into  an  intelligent  or  knowing  being,  with  a 
faculty  of  will  and  a  susceptibility  to  feeling  ;  in  other 
words,  into  a  cause,  which  itself  perceives  the  effect  it 
would  produce,  i.  <?.,  what  it  would  do,  or  at  least  try 
to  do  ;  knows  the  means,  and  is  conscious  of  its  ability 
to  do,  or  to  try  to  do  it ;  and  at  least  believes  that  its 
effort  may  possibly  be  successful. 

The  want  does  not,  generally,  arise  from  our  voli 
tion.  We  may  want,  we  do  want,  without  effort  to 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  57 

want.  The  mind  could  not  begin  its  action  by  willing 
a  want,  unless  there  was  first  a  want  of  that  want.  As 
already  shown,  without  some  want  to  be  gratified  by 
its  act  of  will,  the  mind  would  not  will  at  all.  It 
would  not  will  for  the  mere  purpose  of  exercising  its 
will,  unless  such  exercise  of  will  were  itself  a  previous 
want ;  the  want  must  precede  the  action  of  the  will  to 
gratify  it,  and  must,  in  the  first  place,  come  by  the  act 
of  God,  immediately,  or  mediately  tnrough  the  constitu 
tion  of  our  being.  As  we  may  want  without  effort,  so 
also  we  may  know  that  we  want  without  effort,  for  we 
cannot  want  without  knowing  it.  It  has  before  been 
shown  that  the  want  itself  involves  the  knowledge  of  a 
desirable  change,  and  that  some  of  our  knowledge,  and 
especially  some  of  that  which  we  acquire  through  the 
senses,  comes  to  us  not  only  without  effort,  but  could 
not  be  prevented  by  our  direct  effort.  Any  intuitive 
knowledge  which  we  may  have,  must  also  exist  in  us 
without  effort  to  obtain  it. 

To  these  pre-requisites  of  effort — want  and  knowl 
edge — no  antecedent  effort,  then,  is  necessary.  They 
may  both  exist  without  it.  We  cannot  directly  will 
either  ;  but  may  will  to  use  means  by  which  to  produce 
them  in  us.  It  is  not  necessarily,  by  an  act  of  will,  that 
we  see  and  thus  know  that  a  heavy  body  is  approaching 
us,  or  that  we  know  that  we  are  in  danger  from  it,  or 
that  we  want  to  avoid  it,  or  that  we  know  the  means  of 
avoiding  it,  and  how  to  adopt  the  known  means,  i.  e., 
to  make  an  effort  to  move.  With  such  knowledge  and 
want,  the  first  effort  of  the  mind  may  be  to  make  the 
bodily  movement ;  but,  if  we  suppose  it  not  yet  to 
know  in  which  direction  to  move,  but  to  know  that  the 
mode  of  learning  this  is  to  examine  the  circumstances, 
3* 


58  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

^.- 

i.  e.,  by  further  observation  or  reflection,  then  its  first 
effort  will  be  to  examine. 

A  want  may  itself  be  the  object  wanted ;  we  may 
want  a  want,  as  we  want  an  apple ;  and  the  want 
that  already  is,  may  be  the  occasion  of  our  willing  in 
regard  to  the  attainment  of  the  want,  which  is  the  ob 
ject  desired ;  as  the  want  of  the  apple  is  the  occasion 
of  the  effort  to  obtain  the  apple.  For  instance^  we  may 
want,  to  be  hungry,  i.  e.9  want  to  want  food,  that  we 
may  enjoy  the  pleasure  which  arises  from  gratifying 
hunger.  In  such  case  we  must  distinguish  between  the 
secondary  want,  which,  like  the  apple,  is  but  the  object 
of  our  effort,  and  that  primary  want,  which  excited  us 
to  make  the  effort,  and  for  the  gratification  of  which 
the  secondary  is  'required.  As  the  apple  is  not  itself 
the  want,  but  the  thing  wanted,  so  also,  in  the  case  just 
supposed,  the  hunger,  or  want  of  food,  is  not  itself  the 
want,  but  is  the  thing  wanted.  But,  though  we  do  not 
make,  or  cause,  this  primary  or  exciting  want,  it  is  our 
want  that  we  feel,  and  not  the  want  of  another.  The 
same  of  knowledge ;  we  do  not  make  the  fact,  or  the 
truth,  or  the  evidence  of  it.  The  most  we  can  do  is  to 
seek  that  which  already  is;  and  the  moment  we  find, 
or  know  it,  it  is  our  knowledge,  let  the  source  from 
whence  derived  be  what  it  may.  For  intuitive  knowl 
edge  we  do  not  even  have  to  seek. 

The  want  is,  while  it  lasts,  a  fixed  existence  in  the 
mind,  demanding  effort  for-  its  gratification  or  relief.* 
The  knowledge  becomes  a  portion  of  the  mental  appa 
ratus,  by  which  the  mind  directs  its  efforts ;  every  in 
crease  of  its  knowledge  increasing  its  means  of  accom 
plishing  its  purposes  and  enabling  it  to  direct  its  efforts 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XV. 


FKEEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  59 

with  less  of  fallibility  to  the  desired  results.  To  make 
knowledge  most  available,  or  useful,  often  requires 
thought,  reflection,  or  deliberation  in  its  application. 
An  exciting  want  may  be  accompanied  with  a  con 
sciousness  that  our  knowledge  is  insufficient,  and,  in 
such  case,  the  secondary  want  of  more  knowledge  inter 
venes.  "We  want  to  ascertain  the  circumstances,  or  the 
best  mode  of  proceeding  under  them,  and  our  effort  is 
first  directed  to  obtain  this  knowledge*  We  examine, 
we  deliberate,  and  thereby  reach  a  conclusion  or  judg 
ment.  These  judgments  are  but  the  knowledge,  certain 
or  otherwise,  as  to  what  is,  or  what  we  should  do  ;  ac 
quired  by  preliminary  efforts  for  this  object.  We  ob 
serve,  we  examine,  and  so  arrange  our  ideas,  that  the 
knowledge  sought  may  come  within  the  scope  of  simple 
mental  perception.  As  a  basis  of  the  whole  proceeding, 
however,  there -is  always  a  want ;  and,  of  course,  with 
this  want  as  one  of  its  elements,  some  knowledge  (at 
least  the  knowledge  that  by  effort  more  knowledge  may 
be  obtained)  which  required  no  effort.  The  feeling, 
which  is  one  element  of  the  want,  is  constitutional ; 
and  the  knowledge,  which  is  the  other  element,  is  in 
the  first  instance  either  innate,  or  acquired  by  simple 
perception,  without  effort.  The  preliminary  efforts  of 
the  mind  to  obtain  knowledge  to  use  in  directing  its 
final  effort,  are  but  parts  of  a  plan,  embracing  a*  series 
of  efforts,  to  accomplish  the  final  end  it  has  in  view. 

As  preliminary  to  that  final  act  of  will,  or  series  of 
acts,  by  which  the  primary  exciting  want  is  to  be  grati 
fied,  the  mind  may  have  to  decide — 

1.  Between  its  conflicting  wants. 

2.  Between  various  objects ;  the  obtaining,  or  effect 
ing  some  one  of  which  is  essential  to  the  gratification 


60  FREEDOM   OF  HIND   IN   WILLING. 

of  its  want ;  and  this  is  always  a  change,  or  effect  to  be 
produced  in  the  future. 

3.  Among  various  possible,  or  conceivable,  modes  of 
producing  this  effect  in  the  future. 

4.  Whether  to  make  the  effort  to  produce  the  effect, 
or  not ;  and  then,  if  the  mind  so  decides,  it  proceeds 
to   make  the   effort    in   conformity   to    the   preferred 
mode  to  produce  the   selected   effect,  to   gratify  the 
chosen  want. 

The  preliminaries,  as  above,  may  be  settled  in  other 
order,  and  may  not  all  of  them  be  requisite  to  every 
final  act  of  will.  The  fourth  decision  seems  to  be  very 
closely  associated  with  the  final  act  of  will ;  and,  per 
haps,  liable  to  be  confounded  with  it.  But  a  decision 
or  judgment  is  but  a  particular  form  of  knowledge, 
which  is  often  the  result  of  acts  of  will,  but  cannot  it 
self  be  such  act,  or  effort.  The  final  act  of  will  comes 
after  the  decision  to  do.  If  the  process  ends  with  the 
decision  to  do,  there  is  no  room  for  the  willing  by  the 
mind,  to  do  that  which  it  has  thus  decided  to  do  ;  and 
the  whole  matter  is  as  completely  ended  by  a  decision 
to  do,  as  by  a  decision  not  to  do.  The  difference  in  the 
two  cases  is,  that  a  decision  to  do  is  followed  by  a  fur 
ther  action  of  the  mind  to  execute  its  decision  and  effect 
change  in  the  future ;  and  a  decision  not  to  do  is  a 
finality,  leaving  the  mind  in  a  state  of  quiescence,  and 
not  of  action.  If  the  decision  is  itself  the  act  of  will,  we 
have  nothing  to  mark  the  difference  in  the  subsequent 
mental  conditions  of  action  in  the  one  case,  and  of  re 
pose  in  the  other. 

We  may  suppose  a  being  to  know  that  there  are, 
or  may  be,  several  modes  of  gratifying  a  want,  and 
yet  not  know  that  there  is,  or  may  be,  a  choice  among 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  61 

them.  Such  a  being  would,  no  doubt,  on  feeling  the 
want,  adopt  the  first  means  it  perceived  of  gratifying  it, 
as  though  it  knew  and  could  know  no  other.  If,  in 
so  doing,  it  adopted  the  worst  mode,  it  would  have  been 
better  not  to  have  known  it.  We  all  know  that  this 
disadvantage  sometimes  occurs  to  us  when  acting  too 
hastily,  without  sufficient  deliberation,  and  this  expe 
rience  teaches  us  the  necessity  of  deliberately  examin 
ing  the  facts  and  the  probable  results  of  action,  before 
we  act.  In  the  same  way,  too,  we  learn  that  of  several 
wants  there  may  be  a  choice  as  to  the  order  in  which 
they  shall  be  gratified,  or  whether  they  shall  be  grati 
fied  or  not.  Hence,  from  experience,  or  that  knowl 
edge  which  comes  after  effort,  we  learn  the  importance 
of  using,  before  an  effort,  what  knowledge  we  then 
have ;  and  thus,  with  the  want  and  knowledge  which 
alone  were  sufficient  to  enable  the  mind  to  will,  and  to 
will  intelligently,  is  associated  deliberation,  which  is  a 
preliminary  effort  of  the  mind  to  obtain  more  knowl 
edge  to  enable  it  to  will  better  and  more  intelligently 
in  its  final  action,  i.  e.,  to  produce  the  desired  result  of 
gratifying  the  want  more  certainly,  more  fully,  or  with 
less  collateral,  or  consequential  disadvantages.  Delib 
eration  being  thus  but  the  application  of  our  knowl 
edge,  in  an  effort  to  obtain  more  knowledge,  cannot  be 
considered  as  a  new,  but  as  the  same  element,  used  in 
a  preliminary,  or  intermediate  effort,  induced  by  the 
want  of  more  knowledge.  In  its  every  act  of  will  not 
purely  instinctive,  or  habitual,  the  mind  applies  its 
knowledge,  or  some  of  its  knowledge,  in  devising,  or 
adopting  a  mode  of  gratifying  its  want ;  and  must  take 
some  time  to  make  the  application  at  all ;  *  and  the  ex- 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XVI. 


62  FREEDOM    OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

tended  deliberation  is  only  devoting  more  time  to  make 
that  application  more  perfect,  or  to  obtain  more  knowl 
edge  to  apply.  The  deliberation  is  only  an  examination 
of  our  knowledge,  generally  resulting  in  a  judgment, 
but  is  sometimes  fruitless.  It  may  be  exhaustive,  but 
more  frequently  it  is  not,  and  the  quantity  of  time 
which  shall  thus  be  devoted,  in  any  case,  is  also  a  mat 
ter  for  the  mind  to  judge  of  and  to  decide,  at  any  point, 
by  the  knowledge  which  it  then  already  has.  If  we 
want  food,  it  will  not  be  advisable  to  spend  a  month  in 
considering  whether  it  is  best  for  us  to  eat  beef,  mutton, 
or  venison;  and  yet,  perhaps,  less  time  would  not  suf 
fice  for  a  thorough  examination.  In  such  cases,  the 
mind  judges  for  itself,  bestowing  such  time  as,  under 
the  circumstances,  seems  to  it  desirable ;  the  exercise  of 
a  proper  judgment,  in  this  respect,  combining  prudence 
with  decision.  That  the  mind  has  the  power  to  arrest 
its  impulse  to  gratify  its  want  by  the  first  means  it  per 
ceives,  to  consider  or  examine  whether  there  are  not 
better  means  ;  or  whether  it  is  proper  that  the  want  be 
gratified  at  all,  by  whatever  means  it  may  have  at 
command ;  is  a  very  important  fact,  making,  perhaps, 
the  foundation  of  one  essential  difference  between  in 
stinctive  and  rational  action. 

In  turning  from  the  want,  knowledge,  and  the  appli 
cation  of  the  knowledge,  or  deliberation,  which  precede, 
to  that  effect,  which  the  mind  seeks  to  accomplish  by  its 
effort,  constituting  its  object,  we  may  remark,  as  an  ob 
vious  fact,  we  might  say,  a  truism,  that  we  do  not  maJce 
any  effort  for  what  already  is.  Hence,  a  beginning,  or 
a  design  to  do  what  might  not  otherwise  be  done ;  an 
endeavor,  or  attempt'  to  bring  to  pass  what  before  was 
not ;  to  originate  some  change,  which  otherwise  might 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  63 

not  occur,  seems  involved  in  the  very  idea  of  efibrt. 
In  this  view,  every  volition  is  an  exercise  of  the  creative 
power  of  the  intelligence  that  wills  ;  and  when  success 
ful,  results  in  a  creation,  formed,  with  more  or  less  skill 
and  wisdom,  from  the  unarranged  materials  existing  in 
the  chaos  of  circumstances,  which  this  same  intelligence 
perceives,  examines,  compares,  analyzes,  and  combines 
in  idea,  before  its  final  volition  is  decided  upon, — before 
it  determines  by  what  actual  construction  of  these  ma 
terials  it  can  best  effect  its  purpose, — by  what  means  it 
can  best  gratify,  or  relieve  the  want,  which  excited  it  to 
action. 

We  have  seen  that  the  finite  intelligence  has  all  the 
powers  essential  to  creative  action,  and  also  the  knowl 
edge  required  to  direct  these  powers.  Hence  it  may  of 
itself  use  them  with  intelligent  aim.  To  direct  our  first 
efforts,  we  have  sufficient  intuitive  knowledge,  and 
when  this,  with  any  accumulations  passively  acquired 
by  the  knowing  sense  through  external  sensation,  will 
not  avail,  we  know  that  the  mode  of  obtaining  more  is 
by  an  effort  to  examine. 

Among  the  circumstances,  the  examination  of  which 
by  the  mind  may  be  essential  to  its  proper  exercise  of 
these  powers,  must  be  included  not  only  the  actual 
present  existences  around  us,  but  our  recollections  of 
past  observation  and  reflection ;  our  anticipations  of  the 
future  ;  our  knowledge  of  the  experience  of  others  and 
of  what  others  may  be  doing,  or  expected  to  do  ;  and, 
especially,  of  those  laws,  or  uniform  modes,  by  which 
the  Supreme  Intelligence  regulates  His  acts  of  change ; 
and  by,  or  through,  or  in  conformity  to  which  our  own 
volitions  are  made  effective.  Among  the  circumstances, 
our  opinion  as  to  our  ability  to  execute  this  or  that  de- 


64:  FKEEDOM   OF   MIND    IN   WILLING. 

sign,  will  largely  influence  us  as  to  the  effort  we  con 
clude  to  make.  Whether  that  opinion  is,  or  is  not  cor 
rect,  is  not  material  to  its  influence  on  the  volition. 
The  mind  will,  in  this  respect,  be  influenced  in  its  ac 
tion  by  the  internal  existing  belief, — the  present  known — 
and  not  by  the  external  future  fact,  which  is  unknown, 
perhaps  unanticipated,  or  even  disbelieved. 

We  never  will  to  do,  what  we  know  we  cannot  do. 
To  will  an  act,  I  must  first  know  what  act  to  will.  If 
no  particular  act  appears  to  me  as  better  adapted  to  pro 
duce  the  desired  effect  than  another,  there  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  adopt  one  act  rather  than  another ;  and,  in 
such  case,  my  knowledge  would  only  indicate  trying  any 
act  out  of  the  infinite  number  of  conceivable  acts.  But, 
if  I  know  that  there  is  no  act  that  will  produce  that  effect, 
there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  will  at  all.  I  could  just 
as  well  will  without  any  want,  as  to  will  when  I  knew 
the  act  of  will  would  have  no  influence  on  the  want. 
Under  such  circumstances  there  can  be  no  decision  of 
the  mind  to  act,  and  nothing  to  be  executed  by  an  act  of 
will.  The  decision  to  will,  is  a  portion  of  the  mind's 
knowledge ;  and  to  say  one  cannot  decide  to  will  to  do 
what  he  knows  that  he  cannot  do,  is  merely  saying,  that 
he  cannot  reconcile  the  contradiction,  and  know  that  he 
will  do  what  at  the  same  time  he  knows  he  cannot  do. 
The  effort,  or  trying  to  do,  involves  some  expectation 
of  doing.  If  I  know  the  nature  of  the  act,  which,  if  my 
power  were  sufficient,  would  produce  the  effect,  but 
know  that  my  power  is  not  sufficient,  I  know  that 
willing  such  act  cannot  avail.  I,  in  effect,  know  that 
it  will  no  more  produce  the  effect,  than  any  other 
act,  however  different  its  nature.  Under  strong  im 
pulse,  men  sometimes  seem  to  make  efforts  which  they 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  65 

know  will  be  insufficient  to  produce  the  desired  effects. 
Strong  emotion  often  finds  relief  by  expression  in 
unavailing  words ;  and  a  like  relief  is  derived  from 
expression  in  unavailing  action.  Such  relief  may  be 
the  end  rationally  designed,  or,  perhaps,  in  such  case, 
action  is  instinctive.  If  a  friend  asks  me  to  push  aside 
a  mountain  of  granite,  I  say  I  cannot  do  it ;  and  if,  in 
compliance  with  his  request  to  try,  I  push  against  it,  I 
still  do  not  will  to  move  it ;  but  the  whole  object  of  my 
effort,  and  what  I  will,  is  to  push  against  it  to  please 
him,  and  this  I  pre-perceive  to  be  possible.  A  man, 
who  can  demonstrate  the  impossibility  of  duplicating 
the  cube,  or  of  contriving  a  perpetual  motion,  may  yet 
will  to  exercise  his  wits  upon  these  problems.  His 
effort,  however,  is  not  to  solve  the  problems,  but,  per 
haps,  by  exercise  to  improve  himself  in  geometry  and 
mechanics ;  or  to  amuse  himself  thereby.  Sometimes 
persons,  in  moments  of  frenzy  or  desperation,  appear  to 
attempt  impossibilities.  This  appearance  may  arise 
from  various  causes.  In  a  pressing  exigency,  when 
there  is  nothing  but  what  is  highly  improbable,  things 
highly  improbable  may  be  attempted.  This  is  ex 
pressed  in  the  ancient  adage,  "  A  drowning  man  will 
catch  at  a  straw."  Or,  the  object  sought  may  have 
taken  such  strong  hold  on  the  imagination,  or  may  so 
exclusively  absorb  the  attention,  that  the  obstacle  to  its 
attainment,  the  impossibility,  though  ever  so  palpable 
to  others,  is  overlooked  by  the  actor.  A  man  in  battle, 
surrounded  by  an  army  of  his  enemies,  may  act  as  if  to 
cut  his  way  through  them,  rather  than  passively  meet 
the  fate  he  knows  to  be  inevitable ;  but,  in  this  case, 
what  he  really  seeks  and  wills  is  not  to  cut  his  way 
through  the  army,  but  something  else ;  perhaps  to  de- 


66  FKEEDOM    OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

stroy  as  many  of  the  enemy  as  possible  ;  or  to  get  that 
relief,  which  effort  gives  by  its  excitement  and  by  with 
drawing  his  thoughts  from  his  impending  doom.  Again, 
the  habit  of  resistance,  or  of  effort  in  similar,  though 
less  hopeless  cases,  may  have  its  influence  on  the  action 
willed.  (Of  the  influence  of  habit,  I  shall  have  occasion 
to  say  more  hereafter.)  So,  too,  it  seems  certain,  that 
our  belief  as  to  the  degree  of  certainty  with  which  we 
can  attain  an  object,  is  one  of  the  circumstances  gen 
erally  taken  into  the  view  of  the  mind  in  forming  its 
judgment  as  to  what  it  will  try  to  do,  or  in  what  mode 
it  will  attempt  it.  The  mind  may  not  always  adopt  the 
easiest  mode  of  reaching  the  ultimate  object  of  its  effort. 
It  may  be -indifferent  as  to  the  amount  of  effort,  and 
hence  not  seek  the  easiest  mode ;  or  it  may  prefer  to 
make  more  effort  than  is  necessary,  and  adopt  the  mode 
which  will  embrace  this  intermediate  with  the  ultimate 
object ;  but  it  must  always  seek  to  adopt  a  mode  by 
which  what  it  wants  will  be  accomplished  ;  and,  in  do 
ing  this,  the  mind  must  itself  judge  of  the  mode,  or 
modes,  which  it  knows,  or  which,  when  not  immediately 
apparent,  it  finds  by  a  preliminary  act  of  search,  and, 
in  view  of  all  the  circumstances,  including  its  own 
power,  and  the  pleasure  or  pain  of  exercising  that 
power,  decide  whether  to  adopt  any  one,  and,  if  so, 
which  one. 

These  views  show  the  necessity  of  want  and  knowl 
edge  as  pre-requisites  to  any  effort  of  the  mind.  It  is, 
perhaps,  sufficiently  evident  that  the  mind  will  make 
no  effort  to  do  anything  which  it  does  not  want  done  ; 
also,  that  it  will  make  no  effort  to  do  what  it  wants 
done,  if  it  knows  that  such  effort  will  not*produce  any 
desirable  result ;  or  even  when,  without  this  negative 


FEEEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  67 

certainty,  it  has  no  affirmative  faith,  or  hope  of  such  a 
result. 

But,  more  fully  to  explain,  let  us  suppose  another 
case.  A  man  feels  a  sensation,  and  with  it  has  certain 
knowledge,  constituting  a  want,  say  of  food ;  the  intui 
tive  knowledge  which,  in  the  first  stage  of  his  existence, 
indicated  the  mode  of  gratifying  this  want,  no  longer 
avails  him,  and  his  acquired  knowledge  must  be  brought 
into  requisition.  But  he  knows  of  no  way  of  minister 
ing  to  the  want  by  a  direct  act  of  will.  He  knows  that 
this  is  impossible,  and  he  now  wants  to  make  such  effort 
as  will  lead,  though  indirectly,  to  the  desired  result. 
He  knows  that,  by  examining  the  circumstances,  the 
means  may,  perhaps,  be  found ;  and  he  now  wants  to 
examine.  This  he  has  the  power  to  do,  and  on  doing 
it,  he  finds,  from  immediate  perception,  or  from  the 
memory  of  previous  perceptions,  that  there  is  bread  in 
the  baker's  shop  over  the  way,  or,  at  least,  a  probability 
of  its  being  there  ;  but  he  knows  of  no  way  of  obtaining 
it  by  a  direct  act  of  will,  without  being  first  near  to  it ; 
and  he  now  wants  to  be  at  the  baker's  shop  ;  still,  he 
knows  no  mode  of  accomplishing  this  end  by  a  direct 
act  of  will ;  but  he  knows  that  by  a  direct  act  of  will  he 
can  make  and  govern  the  movements  of  his  limbs  so  as 
to  walk  there ;  and  he  now  wants  to  walk  there.  To 
meet  this  want,  he  has  the  requisite  knowledge  and 
power ;  he  can  will  and  successively  continue  to  will 
the  movements  necessary  to  walk,  and  commencing 
with  these,  he  goes  through  the  several  stages  of  mov- 
•  ing  himself  to  the  baker's  shop,  obtaining  the  bread  and 
applying  it  to  relieve  his  sensation  of  hunger.  At  every 
stage  there  was  a  want  demanding  effort,  but  no  direct 
effort  to  relieve  or  gratify  the  want,  until  it  was  re- 


68  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

duced  to  one  in  which  there  was  corresponding  'knowl 
edge — knowledge  of  a  means,  of  a  plan,  by  which  a  se 
ries  of  acts  of  will,  in  proper  order,  would  accomplish  it. 
The  wants,  which  arise  in  forming  this  plan,  are  all  sec 
ondary  wants,  and  may  be  embraced  in  the  want  of  the 
mind  to  apply  its  knowledge,  or  to  obtain  more  knowl 
edge  to  apply. 

The  contrivance,  or  design,  by  which  the  finite  mind 
finds  means  to  reach  indirectly,  what  it  cannot  by  a  di 
rect  act  of  will,  is  one  mode  in  which  it  manifests  its 
creative  power.  It  is  conceivable,  that  a  man  with  his 
mind  engrossed  by  some  absorbing  subject,  and  at  the 
same  time  feeling  hungry,  might  have  his  notions  so 
confused  as  to  move  his  teeth  to  chew  before  he  put 
the  food  between  them.  Perhaps  most  persons  have 
experienced  something  analogous  to  this,  and  all  can 
readily  perceive  how  abortive  such  efforts  must  be. 
Hence  we  see  that,  to  produce  any  given  effect,  it  is 
important  that  the  efforts  should  be  in  conformity  to 
some  pre-existing  plan  or  design.  A  single  want  may 
thus  require  not  only  a  number  of  acts  of  will,  but  that 
they  shall  be  in  a  certain  consecutive  order  ;  and  a  lit 
tle  system,  as  clearly  manifesting  the  orderly  arrange 
ment  of  designing  cause,  as  our  planetary  system,  be 
created  before  the  original  want,  which  induced  the 
effort,  is  gratified ;  these  little  separate  systems,  going 
to  form  that  universe  which  every  man,  by  the  exercise 
of  his  creative  powers,  is  gradually  constructing,  and 
in  which,  as  in  the  stellar  universe,  some  of  its  consti 
tuent  parts  are  continually  being  formed,  while  others, 
having  fulfilled  the  purposes  of  their  existence,  are  oblit 
erated.  If,  in  the  case  just  stated,  we  suppose  the  man 
to  know,  not  that  there  is  bread  over  the  way,  but  that 


FEEEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  69 

there  is  a  baker's  shop  a  short  distance  in  one  direction, 
where  there  may  be  bread ;  and  another  shop,  farther 
off,  in  another  direction,  where  there  is  a  greater  prob 
ability  of  finding  it;  also,  that  in  another  place  beef 
may  be  had,  and  fruit  in  another,  then  the  judgment 
must  be  exercised ;  the  mind  must  seek,  by  examina 
tion,  to  find  the  best  mode  of  effort  to  get  the  bread,  or 
to  determine  whether,  in  view  of  all  the  circumstances, 
the  effort  should  not  be  to  obtain  the  beef,  or  the  fruit 
instead.  In  such  case  there  is  more  extended  delib 
eration. 

We  have  already  remarked  that  we  do  not  make 
effort,  or  will  as  to  what  now  is  ;  neither  do  we  will  as 
to  what  is  past.  The  object  of  our  effort  is  always  to 
influence  that  which  is  to  be — to  produce  some  effect  in 
the  future.  What  already  is,  or  has  been,  has  no  other 
effect  upon  our  decision  as  to  the  effort  to  be  made, 
than  as  our  memory  of  the  past  and  perceptions  of  the 
present  increase  the  knowledge  by  which  we  are  better  ( 
enabled  to  judge  as  to  what  effects  we  should  seek  to 
produce  in  the  future,  and  add  to  our  power  and  means 
to  produce  them.  In  other  words,  this  knowledge  ena 
bles  the  mind  to  form  those  preconceptions  of  the  effect 
of  any  contemplated  effort,  which  are  essential  to  its 
decision,  or  judgment,  as  to  what  effort  it  should  put 
forth.  The  object  of  willing  being  always  to  produce 
some  change  in  the  future,  this  preconception  of  the 
effect  of  the  willing  on  that  future  is  obviously  a  very 
important  element.  If  a  man  could  not  anticipate 
some  desirable  change  as  the  result  of  his  effort,  he 
would  not,  as  a  rational  and  intelligent  being,  put  forth 
the  effort.  He  could  have  no  object  of  effort  and  no 
reason  for  making  it.  To  will,  then,  requires  that,  by 


70  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

means  of  our  knowledge  of  the  past  and  present,  intui 
tive  or  acquired,  we  be  able  to  obtain  a  prophetic  view 
of  the  future.  This  is  time  of  the  effort  to  form  these 
preconceptions.  When  they  are  not  obvious  to  simple 
mental  perception,  effort  is  required  to  form  them,  and 
the  mind  must  have  some  faith,  that  by  effort  in  exam 
ining,  it  can  get  the  foresight — the  knowledge  required 
to  form  them,  or  so  arrange  its  knowledge  that  such 
preconceptions  will  become  apparent.  The  knowledge, 
that  by  examination  we  can  get  the  knowledge  requi 
site  for  action,  as  before  suggested,  is  essential  .to  our 
first  actions,  and  is  probably  intuitive. 

As  a  conception,  poetic  or  logical,  of  the  effects  of 
any  contemplated  efforts  upon  the  future,  is  thus  essen 
tial  to  the  effort,  a  being,  with  only  sensation  and  a 
knowledge  of  the  past  and  present,  would  not  will.  It 
is  only  by  the  God-like  power  of  making  the  future 
present,  that  intelligence,  Infinite,  or  finite,  in  the  exer 
cise  of  its  will,  becomes  creative.  By  means  of  this 
power  of  anticipating  its  effects,  the  mind,  in  willing,  is 
influenced  by  the  anticipated  creations  of  its  own  ac 
tion,  while  those  creations  are  still  in  the  future,  mak 
ing  a  very  broad  distinction  between  intelligent  and 
any  conceivable  unintelligent  cause. 

It  is  this  fact,  that  intelligent  cause  is  influenced  by 
its  preconceptions  of  its  own  effects,  that  fits  it  for  FIRST 
CAUSE  ;  for  that  which  is  thus,  as  it  were,  drawn  forward 
by  the  future,  needs  no  propulsion  from  the  past ;  that 
which  is  moved  by  inducements  before  it,  does  not 
need  a  motive  influence  behind  it ;  that  which  acts 
from  its  own  internal  perception  of  the  effects  of  its 
own  action  upon  its  own  internal,  existing  want, 
does  not  require  to  be  first  acted  upon  by  extra- 


FKEEDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE.  71 

neous,  external  forces.  It  is  essential  that  the  want  ex 
ists,  but  not  material  to  the  action  how  it  came  to  exist. 
If  the  mind  is  moved  to  exert  its  causal  influence  in  acts 
of  will,  by  the  consideration  of  the  effects  which  will 
succeed,  and  not  by  what  has  preceded  its  action ;  it 
cannot,  up  to  the  point  of  effort,  but  be  a  first  cause, 
and,  as  such,  an  independent  power,  freely  trying  to 
do*  its  finite  part  in  that  creation  of  the  future,  which 
is  the  object  of  its  effort.  In  the  past  it  has  acquired 
the  knowledge  which  aids  its  judgment  as  to  the  effect 
of  any  contemplated  action  under  the  present  circum 
stances. 

The  problem  which  the  mind  has  to  determine,  in 
such  cases,  and  which  the  mind  alone  must  determine, 
is  this :  given,  a  certain  want,  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  a  certain  change  to  be  wrought  out  in  the  future ; 
and,  with  this,  certain  facts,  constituting  whatever 
knowledge  the  mind  has  from  memory  of  the  past,  or 
observation  of  the  present,  including,  of  course,  all  in 
struction,  from  any  source,  human  or  Divine,  up  to  the 
moment  of  deciding ;  to  determine  by  what  change  in 
the  future  the  want  may  be  gratified ;  and  then  by 
what  effort,  or  series  of  efforts,  this  gratifying  change 
may  be  effected.  If  the  want  and  the  existing  circum 
stances,  or  facts,  were  not  already  fixed  and  determined, 
and,  as  such,  not  subject  to  the  will,  we  should  have, 
for  finding  the  required  volition,  only  variable  and  un 
known  data.  There  would  be  nothing  fixed,  or  known 
as  a  basis  of  calculation,  and  the  problem  would  be  as 
indeterminate  as  that  of  constructing  a  triangle  with 
three  unknown  sides.  If  the  want  were  not  fixed,  the 
problem  would  still  be  indeterminate.  The  mind,  that 
does  not  know  what  it  wants,  is  not  prepared  to  deter- 


FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

mine  its  action.  Or,  if  we  suppose  the  want  and  the 
knowledge  of  it  to  be  fixed,  but  all  other  knowledge  to 
be  dependent  on  the  will ;  then  the  mind  would,  by  an 
act  of  will,  have  to  fix  this  other  knowledge  of  the  past 
and  present  before  it  could  make  it  available  in  deter 
mining  its  course  as  to  the  future.  The  mind,  in  such 
case,  would  have  to  assume  the  facts  and  truths,  by  its 
own  creative  acts  for  its  present  purpose,  make  tftem 
fact  and  truth  in  some  fixed  form  ;  it  would  be  acting 
upon  an  assumed  basis,  upon  mere  hypotheses,  and  the 
action  founded  upon  such  assumptions  might  prove  to 
have  no  adaptation  to  the^actual  existences.  "No  sane 
man  would,  from  such  process,  expect  other  than  im 
aginary  or  hypothetical  results,  admitting  of  actual  ap. 
plication  only  when  the  actual  existences  happened  to 
correspond  with  the  assumed  hypotheses.  He  might,  in 
this  way,  plan  action  without  reference  to  any  actual, 
existing  circumstances,  or  to  any  changes,  which  other 
causes  migjit  be  affecting ;  but  the  chance  of  his  plan 
being  applicable  to  the  actual  existences,  would  be  in 
conceivably  small.  With  the  want  and  knowledge 
both  given,  the  mind  has  only  to  determine  their  rela 
tions  to  the  contemplated  acts,  to  make  the  problem 
analogous  to  that  of  constructing  a  triangle,  knowing 
two  sides  and  their  relations  to  the  other.  It  be 
comes  a  determinate  problem,  but  it  is  the  mind's 
knowledge,  including  that  of  its  want,  which  thus 
makes  it  determinate ;  and  the  mind  itself,  by  the  use 
of  its  knowledge,  actually  determines  it.  If  we  do  not 
know  the  existing  facts  or  circumstances,  which  relate 
to  our  action,  we  seek  by  a  preliminary  act  to  find 
them.  The  mind  may  be  in  doubt  as  to  some,  or  all 
of  the  data,  or  knowledge,  upon  which  it  bases  its  con- 


FREEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  73 

structions  ;  and,  so  far,  the  result  will  be  doubtful  and 
the  problem  be  determinate  only  within  the  limits  of 
certain  probabilities ;  or  it  may  be  mistaken  in  the 
data,  either  as  to  the  facts,  or  the  relations,  and,  so  far, 
the  result  may  be  erroneous,  and  the  act  of  will  have 
no  tendency  to  produce  the  expected  result ;  or  there 
may  be  a  want  of  power  to  produce  the  effect  willed. 
However  this  may  be,  however  perfect  or  imperfect  the 
solution — the  mind,  with  such  means  as  it  has,  must  it 
self  resolve  this  problem,  growing  out  of  the  relations, 
indicated  by  its  own  knowledge,  between  its  own  want 
and  the  conception  which  it  forms  of  the  future  effect 
of  certain  of  its  own  acts  of  will,  and  determine  the  re 
sult  or  act  of  will,  or  that  result,  that  act  of  will,  will 
not  be  determined.  No  other  power,  material  or  intel 
ligent,  could  possibly  determine  it  without  knowing  both 
the  want,  and  the  perception  of  the  relation  between 
the  contemplated  action  and  the  want,  which  exist  in  the 
mind  of  the  agent  willing.  This  could  be  only  by  one 
who  knows  all  our  wants,  "  to  whom  all  hearts  are 
open,  all  desires  known."  On  this  point,  of  the  pos 
sible  control  of  the  finite  will  by  the  Supreme  Intelli 
gence,  we  have  already  made  some  suggestions,  and  shall 
consider  it  more  fully  in  another  place. 

From  the  views  just  stated  it  appears  that,  if  the 
want  and  knowledge  of  the  mind  were  subject  to,  in 
stead  of  being  independent  of  its  will,  they  would 
have  to  be  fixed  by  specific  acts  of  will  before  any 
other  act  of  will  could  be  determined  ;  and  the  fact  that 
the  want  and  knowledge  of  the  mind  are  not  subject  to 
the  control  of  its  will,  instead  of  involving  necessity  as 
at  first  glance  one  might  suspect,  is  really  essential  to 
the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  determining  its  action  ;  or, 
4 


74  FREEDOM    OF   MIND    IN   WILLING. 

at  least,  facilitates  the  exercise  of  that  freedom.  That 
we  have  want,  know  our  want,  and  the  means  or  mode 
of  gratifying  that  want,  cannot  militate  against  our 
freedom  in  the  use  of  that  knowledge,  to  gratify  the 
want.  The  want  is  the  original  incentive  to  that  effort, 
the  direction  of  which  the  mind  determines  by  means 
of  the  relations  which  it  perceives  between  its  wants 
and  its  preconceptions  of  the  future  effects  of  this  effort ; 
among  such  conceptions  selecting,  or  choosing,  for  ac 
tualization,  that  one  which,  in  its  view,  is  best  adapted 
to  its  purpose  of  gratifying,  or  relieving  the  want.  It 
is  in  the  forming  of  such  preconceptions,  as  will  prob 
ably  answer  the  purpose,  in  the  accuracy  of  these  pre- 
concQptions,  or  their  conformity  to  the  effects  that  will 
actually  be  produced,  and  in  selecting  among  them,  that 
the  mind  manifests  its  ability  in  action. 

Whether  or  not  these  preconceptions  are  realized  by 
the  power  of  the  mind  in  effort,  is  not  material.  It  is 
sufficient  that  its  effort  is  a  pre-requisite  to  such  realiza 
tion.  Up  to  the  point  of  and  including  the  effort,  the 
finite  mind,  in  its  own  sphere,  so  far  as  we  can  know, 
exerts  its  creative  powers  in  the  same  way  as  the  Infi 
nite,  and  as  freely.  It  has  a  want ;  forms  a  preconcep 
tion  of  what  changes  will  gratify  the  want ;  what  effort, 
or  succession  of  efforts,  will  produce  these  changes ;  and 
makes  the  efforts,  or  wills  these  changes.  The  only  ne 
cessity  or  restraint,  differing  from  that  of  the  Infinite, 
which  the  finite  mind  is  under,  arises,  not  from  a  differ 
ence  in  the  kind,  but  in  the  limited  quantity  of  its 
power.  It  cannot  do  what  it  has  not  power  to  do ;  it 
cannot  act  from  considerations,  which  it  does  not  per 
ceive  or  apprehend  ;  or  upon  knowledge  which  it  does 
not  possess  ;  i.  e.,  the  finite  mind  cannot  reconcile  con- 


FREEDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE.  T5 

tradictions.  But  neither  can  the  Infinite.  In  this  re 
spect  they  are,  if  not  on  the  same,  at  least  on  similar 
footing.  The  finite  mind  cannot  be  infinite,  and  the  In 
finite  cannot  be  finite  ;  and  this  difference  in  condition 
makes  a  corresponding  difference  in  the  contradictions, 
to  reconcile,  or  to  overcome  which  is,  to  each,  impos 
sible.  If  no  intelligence  can  will  to  do  what  it  knows 
that  it  cannot  do,  then  the  Infinite  cannot  will  to  do 
anything  which  is  really  impossible  to  it ;  while  the 
finite,  being  limited  in  knowledge,  may  will  to  do  what, 
to  it,  is  impossible,  and 'even  what  is  absolutely  so  ;  for 
the  very  reason  that  it  does  not  know  the  impossibility, 
or  the  fallacy  in  its  perception  of  some  apparent 
means ;  and  hence,  the  finite  mind  may  will  in  some 
cases  in  which,  if  omniscient,  it  could  not.* 

Having  now  premised  that  the*  finite  intelligence 
lias  the  powers  essential  to  creative  acts  of  will,  and 
that  it  has  a  finite  sphere  commensurate  with  its  knowl 
edge,  in  which  it  has  a  finite,  all-pervading  presence ; 
and  in  which,  so  far  as  we  can  know,  its  creative  powers 
are  exerted  in  the  same  manner  as  those  of  the  Supreme 
Intelligence  are,  in  His  infinite  sphere,  let  us  suppose  a 
commencement  of  creation. 

The  one  first  cause — the  Supreme  Intelligence — ex 
ists,  and  must  have  power  to  act,  to  will  to  do,  or  noth 
ing  would  be  done,  or  even  attempted.  This,  in  It, 
must  be  a  fundamental  condition  of  its  existence.  It 
must,  originally,  as  a  part  of  the  constitution  of  its  Be 
ing,  know  how  to  exert  at  least  some  of  its  powers,  as 
the  same  knowledge  is  constitutional,  or  innate  in  the 
active  finite  intelligence.  This  Supreme  Intelligence, 
then,  is  about  to  act  for  the  first  time.  Its  object  is  to 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XVII. 


76  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN  WILLING. 

produce  some  effect,  some  change.  To  do  this  must 
require  action  of  some  kind  on  its  part ;  for,  if  the 
effect  can  take  place  without  any  such  action,  it  can 
take  place  as  well  without  its  agency  as  with  it ;  and 
the  effect  is  not  the  effect  of  its  agency.  To  produce 
an  effect,  even  Omnipotence  must  exert  its  power — it 
must  put  forth  effort,  it  must  will.  A  creative  God 
cannot  be  an  inert  Being,  wholly  passive,  and  yet  mani 
fest  creative  power.  Such  an  idea  cannot  be  conceived 
without  violence  to  all  our  notions  of  power.  Power 
itself  does  not  act,  but  the  being  that  has  power,  acts 
and  must  exert  its  power — must  put  forth  effort,  or  the 
power  will  not  be  exerted,  will  not  produce  any  effect. 
Such  a  Being,  then,  is  about  to  exert  its  causative  or 
creative  power.  If  there  is  no  matter — nothing  but  this 
one  intelligence,  there  is  manifestly  nothing  extraneous 
to  itself  to  oppose,  to  determine,  or  even  to  influence  its 
action  ;  and  it  must,  therefore,  be  free  to  exert  its  power 
as  itself  may  determine.  It  must  itself  determine  this 
first  act,  or  it  cannot  be  determined.  Nor  is  it  difficult 
to  see  how  this  may  be  done.  The  Supreme  Intelli 
gence  exists  with  its  wants,  its  knowledge,  and  power ; 
its  knowledge  including  the  mode  of  using  that  power. 
It  wants  to  create  ;  it  has  the  knowledge  of  means  ;  the 
wisdom  to  select  and  to  adopt  those  means ;  and  the  pow 
er  to  apply  them,  so  as  to  produce  the  creation  or  change 
wanted.  There  being  no  opposing  force,  the  first  crea 
tion,  the  first  effect  of  its  effort,  must  be  in  conformity 
to  its  design,  if  that  design  be  within  the  province  of  its 
power  to  accomplish.  If  it  could  have  but  one  want, 
and  only  the  knowledge  of  one  way  to  gratify  that 
want ;  if,  in  intelligence,  there  was  no  principle  of 
adaptation  to  new  circumstances,  then,  even  this  Su- 


FREEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  77 

preme  Intelligence  could  produce  but  this  one  effect, 
or,  at  most,  but  duplications  of  it.  From  the  fact  that 
intelligence  has  a  variety  of  wants  ;  also  a  variety  of 
knowledge,  or  the  faculties  to  acquire  it ;  and  that, 
from  its  variable  knowledge,  it  can  select  for  use  that 
which  it  deems  best  suited  to  the  occasion,  it  becomes 
a  variable  cause,  adapting  itself  to  the  want  and  the  cir 
cumstances  existing  in  its  view ;  each  new  want,  with 
every  increase  of  its  knowledge,  and  every  combination 
of  want  with  knowledge,  becoming,  in  its  view,  a  rea 
son  for  new  and  different  effects  by  the  active  intelli 
gence,  which  thus  becomes  a  multiple  cause,  produc 
ing  varied  effects.  Suppose,  then,  the  first  want  which 
actuated  the  Supreme  Intelligence  to  have  been  grati 
fied  ;  that  want  can  no  longer  exist ;  and,  it  being  a 
fundamental  property  of  intelligence  to  want  change, 
or  to  want  to  do  ;  a  new  want  arises.  It  may  be  only 
a  want  of  variety,  or  of  exercise  for  its  faculty,  but  an 
other  new  creation,  or  effect  in  the  future,  is  required  to 
gratify  this  want.  This  second  creation  must  have  some 
reference  to  the  first.  The  first  has  changed  the  condi 
tions,  and  a  different  combination  of  circumstances  en 
ters  into  the  decision  as  to  the  mode  in  which  the  sec 
ond  want  is  to  be  gratified.  This,  however,  does  not 
interfere  with  the  freedom  of  the  active  agent,  but  only 
varies  the  circumstances  under,  or  upon  which  it  freely 
exerts  its  active  power.  It  contemplates  another  crea 
tion — no  less  a  new  creation  than  the  first,  but  begun 
or  conceived  under  different  circumstances,  which  the 
intelligence  takes  into  account  as  a  portion  of  its  knowl 
edge,  by  which  it  determines  as  to  what  is  best  to  be 
done,  and  what  the  best  means  to  do  it.  It  is  the  same 
as  though  it  had  now  to  act  for  the  first  time,  and  found 


78  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

the  circumstances,  as  they  now  are,  to  act  upon,  or  to 
consider  in  its  action.  That  by  previous  action  it  has 
itself  made,  or  contributed  to  make,  the  circumstances 
what  they  are,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  proper  action 
under  them.  The  date,  or  the  cause  of  their  existence, 
cannot  affect  the  result,  all  that  enters  into  the  delibera 
tion  being  their  actual  present  existence  ;  so  that  every 
successive  act  of  the  creative  intelligence  is  the  same  as 
the  beginning,  or,  we  may  say,  is  the  beginning  of  a 
new  creation,  made  in  reference  to  what  already  exists. 
So  also  if,  when  intelligence  was  first  to  act,  it  found 
matter  coexisting  ;  and  further,  that  this  matter  was  in 
motion  and  blindly  producing  changes  in  itself;  this 
would  vary  the  circumstances  under  which  the  intelli 
gence  would  act,  but  could  not  affect  the  freedom  of  its 
action.  To  this  uncalculated  and  uncalculating  state  of 
things,  it  would  bring  the  new  element  of  intelligent 
action,  and,  from  the  chaotic  confusion  of  numerous 
blind  forces,  educe  the  order,  the  unity  of  a  designing 
cause.  The  design  must  be  all  its  own,  for  no  variety, 
no  quantity  of  blind  causes,  or  forces,  could  make  a  de 
sign,  form  a  preconception )  or  be  in  any  way  influenced 
by,  what,  as  yet,  is  not.  For  a  similar  reason,  the  effort 
to  fulfil  the  design  must  be  its  own  effort.  Blind  forces 
cannot  conceive  or  will  at  all,  much  less  will  in  con 
formity  to,  or  in  the  order  of  a  preformed,  or  preexist 
ing  design  or  plan,  which  it  cannot  form,  or  know,  but 
the  design  may  be  wisely  so  formed,  that  some,  or  all 
of  such  forces,  if  any  such  be  possible,  may  cooperate 
with  the  effort  of  the  intelligent  cause  to  actualize  its 
designs  or  conceptions.  The  effort  must,  however,  be 
to  make  the  effect  different  from  what  it  may  be  obvious 
that  all  such  forces  combined  will  do ;  otherwise  it  is 


FEEEDOM  OF   INTELLIGENCE.  79 

but  an  effort  to  accomplish  nothing ;  which  is  an  ab 
surdity.  When,  then,  the  design  is  such,  that  all  the 
blind  forces,  unchanged,  obviously  aid  in  its  accomplish 
ment,  the  design  must  include  something  in  addition  to 
what  the  designing  agent  perceives  these  forces  would 
themselves  accomplish.  Such  forces  may  be  auxiliary 
to  the  power  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  or  may  pre 
sent  circumstances  to  be  changed  and  impediments  to  be 
overcome ;  but  evidently,  for  reasons  above  stated,  do 
not  interfere  with  His  freedom  of  design  or  effort, 
though,  if  His  power  were  not  infinite,  they  might  pre 
vent  the  actualization  of  the  design,  or  frustrate  the 
effort.  If  infinite,  this  could  only  occur  in  case  the  de 
sign  were  so  unwisely  formed  as  to  involve  contradic 
tion,  as*  the  making,  on  a  plane  surface,  of  two  hills 
without  a  hollow.  Such  contradiction  an  infinitely 
wise  Being  would  avoid.  We  have  now  supposed  the 
Supreme  Intelligence  acting  as  the  only  cause,  and  also 
in  connection  with  any  blind  causes. 

If  we  suppose  one  of  the  creations  of  the  Supreme 
Intelligence  to  be  a  subordinate,  finite  intelligence,  and 
this  created  intelligence  to  act  freely  as  cause,  pro 
ducing  its  own  effects,  independent  of  the  Supreme  In 
telligence,  and  without  Its  prescience,  then  the  Supreme 
Intelligence  must,  in  its  subsequent  creations,  make 
these  new  circumstances,  this  new  cause,  with  its  own 
uncertainty,  or  ignorance  of  the  effects  which  this  cause 
may  produce,  a  part  of  the  foundation  of  its  own  ac 
tion  ;  as  the  finite  intelligence,  in  its  action,  has  refer 
ence  to  its  own  uncertainty  and  ignorance,  as  to  many 
events  depending  on  the  action  of  the  Infinite,  of  which 
it  has  no  certain  prescience.  Some  of  these,  however, 
we  rely  upon  with  implicit  faith ;  as  the  rising  of  the 


80  FREEDOM   OP   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

sun ;  others,  as  the  changes  of  the  weather,  are  to  us  very 
uncertain  ;  and  we  must  sometimes  provide,  in  our  de 
signs  or  plans  of  action,  for  numerous  contingencies, 
which  we  cannot  certainly  foreknow.  This  very  uncer 
tainty  makes  one  of  the  circumstances  which  we  have 
to  consider  in  determining  what,  in  view  of  all  com 
bined,  we  will  try  to  effect.  If  there  is  any  such  uncer 
tainty  in  the  mind  of  God,  as  to  human  actions,  it  will 
be  but  one  of  the  circumstances  which  He  will  consider 
in  determining  His  own  action.  His  designs,  His 
efforts,  though  they  may  be  made  in  reference  to  the 
existence  of  this  finite  cause,  are  not  made,  either  wholly 
or  in  part,  by  it ;  they  are  still  his  own  designs,  his  own 
efforts,  freely  made.  The  existing  finite  intejligence 
not  only  has  not  sufficient  power  to  coerce  or  control 
the  freedom  of  the  infinite,  as  to  its  designs  and  efforts^ 
but  it  has  no  tendency  to  do  so.  The  mere  changing  of 
the  circumstances  upon,  or  in  view  of  which  the  Su 
preme  Intelligence  acts,  even  though  such  change 
could,  in  some  unseen  way,  frustrate  the  effort,  could 
not  affect  the  freedom  of  the  design,  or  of  the  effort. 
Among,  or  upon  one  set  of  circumstances,  His  designs 
and  efforts  would  be  as  free  as  among  another  set; 
though  some  combination  of  circumstances  may,  to  any 
but  the  infinite,  require  less,  and  some  admit  of  less  de 
liberation,  than  others.  The  Supreme  Intelligence, 
then,  whether  acting  as  the  only  activity  in  the  uni 
verse,  or  in  connection  with  matter  in  motion,  or  with 
inferior  intelligence,  must  will  without  constraint  or  re 
straint — must  will  freely. 

Nor  can  the  amount  of  the  power  of  the  intelligence 
make  any  difference  in  regard  to  the  freedom  'of  its 
efforts.  The  mind's  own  estimate  of  its  power,  may  be 


FREEDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE.  81 

one  portion  of  the  knowledge  by  which  it  judges  as  to 
what  effort  to  make.  If  mistaken  in  this,  it  may  make 
efforts  which  are  unavailing.  Still,  this  does  not  show 
any  want  of  freedom  in  its  willing,  but  only  a  want  of 
power  to  do  what  it  wills.  That  it  can  will  to  do  even 
what  it  cannot  do,  is  rather  an  indication  of  its  freedom 
in  willing  than  otherwise.  If,  in  conformity  to  a  strin 
gent  logic,  we  suppose  God  to  have  no  more  power 
than  is  required  to  do  what  we  see  He  has  done,  such 
limitation  could  not  affect  His  freedom  in  the  exercise 
of  that  power.  Neither  can  the  amount  of  knowledge 
have  any  influence  on  the  freedom  of  the  effort,  but 
only  upon  the  wisdom  of  the  design,  or  of  the  effect  in 
tended.  "With  inadequate  knowledge  we  may  not  form 
full  and  correct  preconceptions  of  the  effect,  or  of  the 
mode  of  producing  it,  and  hence  be  liable  to  err  in  our 
judgment  as  to  the  wisdom  or  propriety  of  the  contem 
plated  change,  or  to  mistake  the  means  of  producing 
it,  but  this  does  not  effect  our  freedom  in  the  attempt. 

It  seems  to  be  a  self-evident  proposition,  that  the 
Supreme  Intelligence,  acting  alone  as  the  only  existing 
cause,  must  act  freely ;  and  the  views  just  stated,  in 
connection  with  those  before  presented,  in  regard  to 
spirit  and  matter  as  cause,  show  that  this  freedom  is  not 
— at  least  not  necessarily — affected  by  the  amount  of 
the  power,  or  of  the  knowledge  of  the  intelligent  cause ; 
nor  by  the  coexistence  of  other  causes,  material  or  in 
telligent.  If,  then,  neither  the  amount  of  the  power, 
nor  of  the  knowledge  of  the  willing  agent,  nor  the  co 
existence  of  other  causes,  influence  the  question  of  the 
freedom  of  the  agent  in  willing ;  and  man,  as  we  have 
shown,  is  creative  in  that  finite  sphere,  in  which,  with 
finite  power,  he  is  present  to  all  that  hg  knows  ;  as  God 


82  FEEEDOM  OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

is  creative  in  that  infinite  sphere  in  which  He  is  om 
nipotent  and  omnipresent,  we  mnst  infer  that  man  may 
as  freely  exercise  his  finite  creative  powers  in  his  finite 
sphere,  as  God  does  His  infinite  powers  in  His  infinite 
sphere ;  and,  that  every  act  of  will  is  a  new  and  inde 
pendent  movement,  and,  as  it  were,  a  fresh  beginning 
of  a  new  creation,  evolved  by  the  mind  from  the  new 
combination  of  circumstances  in  view  of  which  it  wills. 
Each  individual  intelligence  wills  as  in  its  view  of  the 
circumstances  it  deems  best ;  and  though  these  circum 
stances  may  be  the  result,  the  composition,  of  the  pre 
vious  action  of  itself  and  of  all  other  intelligences,  and 
any  other  possible  causes,  still,  as  no  such  action  can 
change  the  present  state  of  things;  at  the  present  time, 
each  intelligence  acts,  so  far  as  external  circumstances 
are  concerned,  as  if,  at  the  moment  of  its  action,  all 
other  powers  were  quiescent  and  itself  the  only  active 
power  in  existence.  What  the  others  have  already 
done,  or  may  be  expected  to  do,  are  but  portions  of  the 
circumstances  upon  which  the  mind  acts  in  judging,  or 
deciding,  as  to  the  effort  it  will  make,  if  any.  In  re 
gard  to  its  own  efforts,  then,  the  finite  mind,  so  far  as 
external  events,  circumstances,  and  coexisting  causes  are 
concerned,  at  the  moment  of  willing,  may  be  as  free  as 
if  no  other  intelligence  or  force  existed ;  and  hence, 
may  will  freely,  though  other  forces  may  frustrate  the 
subsequent  execution  of  what  it  wills.  One  intelligence 
may  to  the  extent  of  its  power,  shape  the  circumstances 
with  a  view  to  influence  the  will  of  another ;  but  this 
is  presuming  that  the  other  wills  freely.  If  that  other 
does  not,  there  would  seem  to  be  no  use  in  presenting 
to  it  the  newly  adjusted  circumstances  to  influence  its 
will ;  no  reason^  to  suppose  that  its  will  could  thus  be 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  83 

influenced  by  any  change  of  circumstances  produced  by 
other  intelligences,  or  other  causes. 

In  connection  with  the  argument  that,  as  the  free 
dom  of  the  mind  in  willing  is  not  affected  by  the 
amount  of  its  power,  or  knowledge,  the  finite  mind 
may  will  as  freely  as  the  infinite,  the  foregoing  views 
suggest  that  it  makes  no  difference  at  what  period  of 
creation  the  finite  mind  begins  to  act.  Suppose  it,  first 
having  acquired  knowledge,  to  have  been  quiescent  for 
ages,  and  again  to  begin  to  act  at  this  moment,  and 
that  previous  activities,  having  brought  creation  to  its 
present  state,  should  all  cease  to  act,  except  those  agen 
cies,  whatever  they  may  be,  which  execute  the  decrees 
of  the  human  will,  leaving  nothing  but  this  one  finite 
mind,  with  its  wants,  faculties,  knowledge,  and  the  sur 
rounding  circumstances;  these  latter  all  quiescent  in 
the  state  to  which  the  recent  activities  brought  them. 
This  one  finite  mind  could  make  effort  to  change  these 
circumstances,  in  the  absence  of  all  other  active  influ 
ences,  as  well  as  with  their  presence ;  and,  in  their  ab 
sence,  there  being  nothing  else,  must  itself  direct  the 
effort,  which  must  be  directed,  and  is  consequently  free 
in  making  that  effort,  and  especially  as  there  is  nothing 
to  oppose,  to  constrain,  or  control  it  in  so  doing.  How 
ever  small  its  power  to  will,  that  power  must  be  suffi 
cient  to  overcome  no  obstruction.  The  circumstances 
,  do  not  make  the  effort,  or  any  part  of  it.  In  order  to 
form  a  preconception  of  the  effect  of  any  contemplated 
effort  to  change  the  present,  the  mind  must  consider 
what  now  is,  and  hence  acts  in  reference  to  what  al 
ready  is  ;  but  mere  circumstances,  having  in  themselves 
no  power,  no  self-activity,  cannot  act  upon  anything, 
and  can  only  be  acted  upon.  The  finite  mind,  then, 


84  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

under  such  conditions,  being,  by  the  hypothesis,  the 
only  activity,  the  only  power  capable  of  producing 
change,  or  capable  of  making  effort  to  produce  change, 
must  be  wholly  unimpeded  in  such  eifort,  and  must  de 
termine  its  effort,  without  extraneous  aid  or  hindrance. 
Nor  can  it  make  any  difference,  if  we  suppose  the  other 
activities  to  be  reinstated.  They  cannot  alter  the  past, 
nor  can  they  in  the  present  moment^  alter  the  present, 
whatever  already  is,  though  its  existence  commenced  in 
the  present  instant,  is  as  surely  existent  as  if  it  com 
menced  its  existence  ages  before.  The  reinstating,  then, 
of  these  other  activities,  at  the  instant  that  this  sup 
posed  one  finite  mind  wills,  cannot,  at  that  instant,  alter 
the  circumstances,  except  as  their  own  existence  is  a 
fact  added  to  the  knowledge  of  this  one  mind,  and,  thus 
far,  may  vary  its  action  ;  but  cannot,  as  before  shown, 
affect  its  freedom  in  acting.  From  this  fact,  that  no 
cause  can  alter  what  is  at  the  instant,  in  the  same  in 
stant — or  make  things  as  they  are,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  different  from  what  they  are — every  act  of  the  in 
telligent  being,  finite  or  infinite,  is  the  same  as  a  first 
act  of  such  being,  under  such  circumstances  as  it  might 
find  coexisting,  and,  in  the  absence  of  all  other  activ 
ities,  forces,  or  causes ;  and  further,  as  the  number  of 
coexisting  circumstances  does  not  affect  the  mind's  free 
dom  in  choosing  among  them,  or  in  combining  them,  or 
in  considering  their  relations  to  its  efforts,  or  in  its  pre 
conceptions  of  the  effects ;  and  the  quantity  of  the 
agent's  power  does  not  affect  its  freedom  in  using  what 
it  has  ;  every  effort  of  the  finite  mind  may  be  as  free  as 
the  first  creative  act  of  the  Infinite,  even  supposing  It 
to  have  then  been  the  only  existence. 

These  considerations  serve  to  show  that  the  finite 


FREEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  85 

mind  may  will  freely  ;  and  we  shall  next  inquire  as  to 
whether  it  is  controlled  in  willing  by  any  other  power. 

The  only  essential  elements  in  willing  which  are 
within  the  mind,  and  yet  are  not  the  mind's  action,  are 
want  and  knowledge.  The  want  does  not  itself  will. 
It  does  not  direct  the  will ;  for  it  has  not  the  knowledge 
by  which  alone  this  can  be  done.  The  knowledge  does 
not  will,  nor,  itself,  direct  the  will ;  for  knowledge,  if 
considered  as  an  entity  distinct  from  mind,  is  no£,.in  it 
self,  intelligent,  and  cannot  even  know  the  want  to  the 
gratification  of  which  the  effort  must  be  adapted.  It  is 
also  obvious  that  no  want,  or  combination  of  want  with 
knowledge,  can  will.  The  effort  and  its  direction,  or 
determination,  must  be  by.  that  which  is  cognizant  of 
both  the  want  and  the  knowledge,  and  perceives  the 
relations  between  them ;  that  is,  by  an  intelligent  being, 
or  agent. 

In  regard  to  external  control,  I  will  further  observe 
that  the  only  conceivable  modes  in  which  the  mind  of 
any  finite  intelligent  being,  as  man,  can  be  influenced 
from  without  itself,  in  its  act  of  will,  are, 

First,  by  some  other  intelligence,  cause,  or  force  act 
ing  directly  upon  his  will,  and,  as  it  were,  taking  the 
place  of  his  mind,  and  using  his  will  to  accomplish  its 
own  objects ;  or, 

Secondly,  by  such  other  intelligence,  cause,  or  force 
acting  directly  upon  that  man's  mind  and,  by  control 
ling  its  action,  through  it  control  his  will ;  or, 

Thirdly,  by  so  changing  his  knowledge,  including 
the  knowledge  of  those  sensations  and  emotions  which 
are  elements  of  want,  that  in  consequence  of  this  change 
of  knowledge,  he  comes  to  a  different  result,  and  wills 
differently. 


86  FREEDOM   OF  MEND   IN   WILLING. 

As  the  power  of  matter,  if  it  have  any,  must  be  lim 
ited  to  changing  the  circumstances  and  thus  changing 
the  knowledge  on  which,  or  in  view  of  which,  we  act, 
it  can  only  influence  us  in  the  last  of  the  three  modes, 
and  hence  may  be  excluded  in  considering  the  other 
two. 

The  first  of  these  involves  the  absurdity  of  making 
the  will  a  distinct  entity,  separable  from  the  particular 
mind  with  which  it  is  usually  associated,  and  liable  to 
be  used  by  any  other  intelligence,  that  can  get  posses 
sion  of  it. 

If  the  will  is  not  a  distinct  entity,  but  is  a  mere 
quality,  property,  faculty,  or  attribute  of  a  mind ;  or  a 
result  or  condition  of  its  activity ;  then,  when  we  de 
stroy  its  connection  with  that  mind,  or  with  its  activity, 
the  will  vanishes  as  completely  as  the  image  in  a  mir 
ror,  when  the  object  is  removed  from  before  it ;  and 
there  is  no  will  left  to  be  thus  controlled  by  another  in 
telligence,  or  other  external  force.  Upon  the  hypothe 
sis  that  my  will  is  a  distinct  entity,  or  a  separate  por 
tion  of  my  mind,  it  is,  perhaps,  conceivable  that  such 
will,  though  controlled  by  another,  may  be  so  connected 
or  associated  with  my  mind,  as  in  some  sense  to  be  said 
to  be  my  will ;  but  even  then,  the  action  of  that  will, 
thus  controlled  by  another,  cannot  be  my  action ;  the 
effort,  the  willing  through,  or  by  means  of,  that  will,  is 
not  my  willing,  but  it  is  the  effort,  the  willing  of  that 
other  intelligence,  which  thus  uses  my  will  and  acts 
through  it ;  and,  in  such  case,  my  mind  makes  no  effort 
— I  do  not  will  at  all.  Hence  the  question,  as  to  wheth 
er  I  will  freely  or  not,  cannot  arise  in  this  case. 

In  the  second  case,  if  another  intelligence  directly 
controls  my  mind,  and  causes  it  to  will  without  any 


FREEDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE.  87 

reference  to  my  own  views,  my  own  knowledge,  then 
my  intelligence  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  willing.  I 
am  not  then  the  intelligent  being  that  wills,  or  the 
agent  that  acts,  but  am  the  mere  instrument  which 
some  other  active  agent  uses,  as  it  would  an  axe,  or  a 
lever,  to  accomplish  its  own  purposes.  The  willing, 
thus  directly  controlled  by  external  power,  may  be  in 
opposition  to  that  which  I  perceive  would  accomplish 
what  I  want.  If  the  external  power  perceives  in  me 
certain  conditions  of  want  and  knowledge,  and  conforms 
the  forced  action  of  my  mind  to  them,  it  is  thus  con 
formed  by  the  volition  of  the  external  power,  and  not 
by  my  action.  The  extrinsic  agent  perceives  the  con 
ditions,  and  their  relations  to  the  action,  as  the  sculptor 
perceives  the  aptitudes  of  a  block  of  marble,  in  which 
he  works  out  his  own  designs.  So,  if  my  mind  is  con 
strained  in  its  act  of  will  by  external  power,  my  own 
want  and  knowledge,  my  perception  of  means  to  ends, 
my  preconceptions  of  the  effect,  have  no  more  to  do 
with  the  coerced  action,  than  the  form  Of  the  block  of 
marble  has  with  the  action  of  the  sculptor.  The  act  is 
not  the  action  of  my  intelligent  being.  It  is  not  I  who 
act,  but  some  other  being,  which,  in  acting,  uses  me  as  its 
instrument.  I  am,  in  such  case,  no  more  than  an  inert 
something,  acted  upon  by  intelligence,  which  is  not  of 
me ;  and  I  in  no  wise  differ  from  unintelligent  sub 
stance,  except,  in  being  conscious  of  the  changes  thus 
wrought  in  me  by  a  power  without  me. 

In  neither  of  the  first  two  of  the  three  supposed 
cases  of  control  of  the  will  of  any  being  by  the  action 
of  extraneous  power  ;  viz. :  that  directly  exerted  on  the 
will,  or  that  on  the  mind,  to  compel,  or  constrain  its  act 
of  will,  can  there  be  any  willing  by  that  being  to  be 


88  FREEDOM    OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

thus  controlled.  In  these  cases,  such  being  does  not  it 
self  act,  but  is  only  a  passive  subject,  acted  upon  by 
some  external  power,  though  still  having  the  capacity 
to  feel,  and  to  know,  the  changes  thus  produced  in  it. 
There  may  still  be  a  being  with  sensation  and  knowl 
edge,  but  no  will.*  Hence,  the  moment  we  reach  the 
point  of  controlling  the  will,  in  either  of  these  two 
modes,  there  is  no  willing  of  the  being  to  be  controlled. 
It  may  further  be  remarked  that,  even  if  such  extrinsic 
control  and  willing  were  compatible  in  themselves,  we 
neither  know,  nor  can  conceive  of  any  mode  in  which 
extrinsic  power  could  be  directly  applied  either  to  will 
or  to  mind. 

In  regard  to  the  third  and  the  only  other  conceiv 
able  mode,  there  are  various  ways  in  which  the  knowl 
edge  of  one  intelligence  may  be  increased  or  changed 
by  another.  In  relation  to  external  circumstances,  this 
may  be  done  by  adding  to  or  altering  the  actual  exist 
ing  circumstances,  which  is  an  exercise  of  creative 
power,  finite  or  infinite,  so  that  other  intelligent  beings, 
perceiving  this  change,  will,  in  virtue  of  their  intelli 
gence,  their  power  to  adapt  their  efforts  to  circum 
stances  by  means  of  their  knowledge,  will  differently 
from  what  they  would  have  done  but  for  such  addition, 
or  change  of  circumstances.  Even  finite  mind  may  so 
influence  the  infinite. 

In  regard  to  those  abstract  ideas,  and  the  perceived 
relations  among  them,  which  are  not  influenced  by  ex 
trinsic  changes — in  regard  to  what  is  true  or  false — the 
views  and  knowledge  of  one  finite  mind  may  be  changed 
through  the  action  of  another  mind  in  statement,  illus 
tration,  argument,  &c. ;  but  the  finite  intelligence  can- 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XVIII. 


FREEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  89 

not  thus  influence  omniscience.  But  such  change  of 
knowledge  in  any  mind,  from  any  cause,  whether  by 
the  action  of  others  or  by  its  own  efforts,  or  directly 
through  its  own  simple  perceptive  attributes  without 
aid  or  effort,  is  not  the  willing  of  that  mind ;  it  is  not 
such  willing  in  any  one  of  these  cases  of  change  of 
knowledge,  more  than  in  the  others  ;  and  the  only  rea 
son  why,  in  either  case,  such  change  in  the  mind's 
knowledge  has  any  influence  on  its  willing  is  because 
\i  freely  conforms  its  action  to  its  knowledge — to  its 
perceptions  of  the  fitness  of  the  action  to  the  end 
sought.  If  the  circumstances  themselves  be  altered, 
this  is  not  of  itself  altering  the  will,  and  no  alteration 
can  take  place  in  it,  except  as  the  mind  acts  upon  its 
perceptions  of  the  altered  circumstances,  and  that, 
under  a  different  view  of  the  circumstances,  whether 
produced  by  an  actual  change  in  them,  or  by  argument, 
or  otherwise,  the  mind  may  will  differently^  or  make  a 
different  effort  in  consequence  of  the  change  in  its 
knowledge,  is  no  evidence  that  it  does  not  will  freely, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  such  change  of  its  act  of  will  to 
conform  to  its  own  views,  or  its  own  knowledge,  indi 
cates  its  own  unrestrained  control  of  its  own  act  of  will ; 
and,  as  already  intimated,  if  it  does  not  will  freely, 
there  is  no  reason  to  expect  any  change  of  its  will,  by 
changing  its  view  of  the  circumstances,  either  by  direct 
action  on  the  mind,  or  indirectly,  by  actual  change  of 
the  circumstances  viewed.  If  it  does  not  will  freely, 
that  which  is  desirable,  if  it  have  any  influence  at  all, 
may  influence  it  in  the  same  way  as  that  which  is  unde 
sirable  ;  and  if  this  lack  of  freedom  extends  to  the  inter 
nal,  as  well  as  the  external,  even  a  man's  own  virtuous 
emotions,  or  proper  wants,  may  be  the  foundation  of 


90  FREEDOM  OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

vicious  voluntary  efforts ;  all  of  which  is  not  only  con 
trary  to  observed  fact,  but  is  self-contradictory  and 
absurd. 

These  considerations,  touching  the  influence  which 
may  be  supposed  to  arise  from  the  mind's  view  being 
affected  by  change  of  circumstances,  are  equally  appli 
cable,  if  the  circumstances  change  in  any  other  way,  or 
are  changed  by  any  other  cause  than  another  intelli 
gence ;  and  even  if  they  change  themselves— if  any 
such  changes,  or  modes  of  change,  are  possible.  Even 
if  matter  or  circumstances  are  an  independent  cause, 
producing  effects,  it  can  produce  no  other  effects  on  the 
mind's  action  than  may  be  produced  by  intelligent 
cause  changing  the  circumstances  in  view  of  which  the 
mind  acts ;  and  hence  the  reasoning  just  herein  ap 
plied  to  the  influence  of  other  intelligent  causes  on  the 
will,  applies  also  to  any  which  are  unintelligent. 

The  mind,  in  determining  its  own  action,  may  con 
sider  what  any  other  cause  may  be  expected  to  do,  and, 
in  willing  accordingly,  still  will  freely.  The  mind,  in 
willing,  builds  the  future  upon  the  present  circum 
stances,  and  is  thus  active  in  a  sphere  which  circum 
stances  have  not  yet  reached.  It  uses  the  circumstances 
as  means,  and  in  the  absence  of  such  means,  may  not 
be  able  to  effect  what  it  might  effect  with  them. 

In  regard  to  this  influence  of  circumstances,  we  may 
further  observe,  that  if  any  future  event  is  necessarily 
connected  with  any  circumstance,  or  with  any  thing  in 
the  past  or  present,  and  comes  to  pass  of  necessity  from 
such  connection,  then  the  circumstance,  or  thing,  is 
itself  the  cause  of  that  future  event,  which  must  thus 
come  to  pass  in  virtue  of  such  connection  without  any 
act  of  will.  If  it  be  said  that  the  act  of  ivill  is  it- 


FREEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  91 

self  that  event  which  is  thus  so  connected  with  the 
past  or  present  circumstance  or  thing,  that  it  comes  to 
pass  in  virtue  of  such  connection,  then  the  circum 
stance,  or  thing,  is  the  cause  of  such  act  of  will,  and  is 
the  power  which  produces  it,  and  the  being,  to  whom 
the  act  is  attributed,  really  makes  no  effort,  he  acts  no 
act  of  will,  there  is  no  willing  by  him.  Again,  the  in 
stant  that,  in  the  past  or  present,  with  which  such  act 
of  will  is  necessarily  connected,  comes  to  pass,  the  act 
of  will,  being  of  necessity  connected  with  it,  also  comes 
to  pass,  and  they  are  really  simultaneous ;  and  every 
act  of  will  necessarily  dependent  on  the  past  or  present 
must,  at  any  subsequent  instant  of  time,  have  actually 
taken  place,  and  no  new  act  of  will  could  grow  out  of 
this  past.  If  the  act  of  will  has  no  such  necessary  con 
nection,  but  subsequently  becomes  so  connected,  then 
the  new  connection  is  a  change,  requiring  a  cause, 
which  did  not  of  necessity  produce  its  effect  at  the  in 
stant  the  past  circumstances  came  into  existence ;  but 
this  must  be  a  cause  which  can  originate  and  begin 
subsequent  action,  i.  e.,  a  cause  which  is  at  least  so  far 
independent  of  these  past  circumstances,  that  it  need 
not  act  in  immediate  connection  with,  or  as  a  necessary 
consequence  of  their  existence.  But,  if  the  effect  of 
these  past  circumstances  may  be  deferred  for  one  mo 
ment,  it  can  be  for  another  and  another,  and  so  may 
never  be,  and  hence  is  not  a  necessary  effect.  From 
what  has  just  been  'said,  it  is  evident  that  no  new  effect 
can  come  from  past  existences,  till  some  new  cause  has 
connected  such  effect  with  such  past  existence,  and 
hence  it  follows,  that  an  act  of  will  never  can  be  the 
necessary  effect  of  anything  in  the  past,  or  have  any 
connection  with  it,  till  the  action  of  some  efficient  cause 


92  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

makes  the  connection,  and,  in  such  case,  the  cause 
which  makes  this  connection  is  really  the  cause  of  the 
act  of  will.  Now  the  only  conceivable  modes  in  which 
the  eifects  of  a  cause  can  be  continued  in  time,  after  the 
cause  has  itself  ceased  to  act,  are  by  means  of  matter  in 
motion,  and  by  intelligence  retaining  or  recalling  the 
effects  by  memory,  and  thus,  as  to  itself,  making  them 
still  present.  But  matter  in  motion  cannot  will  or  se- 
leci,  decide  or  determine,  among  the  various  conceiv 
able  possible  volitions  ;  and  though  it  may  be  a  link  in 
the  connection  between  a  past  event  and  a  volition,  the 
last  and  essential  link  is  made  by  the  mind  itself.  The 
nature  of  the  circumstances  cannot  enable  them  to 
make  a  necessary  connection,  or  to  decide  when  and 
where  it  shall  be ;  their  nature  can  have  no  influence 
on  the  mind  in  willing  till  it  knows  their  nature,  and' it 
is  thus  only  through  the  cognition  of  the  mind  itself, 
that  they  have  any  influence  on  the  act  of  will ;  and 
the  real  connecting  cause  is  intelligence, — mind ; — and 
the  past  circumstances,  including  any  movements  of 
matter,  only  furnish  the  knowledge,  or  reasons,  for  its 
action  in  willing.  These  positions  confirm  the  conclu 
sion  we  before  reached  by  another  mode,-  that  every  act 
of  will  is,  in  itself,  a  beginning  of  action. 

Again,  if  the  past  is  a  necessary  cause  of  volition  in 
a  mind,  then,  as  to  this  mind,  there  always  is  a  past,  it 
must  be  constantly  willing,  which  is  contrary  to  the 
known  fact.  If  it  be  said  that,  though  the  past  does 
not  of  necessity  always  produce  a  volition,  yet,  whenever 
a  volition  does  occur,  it  is,  of  necessity,  so  connected  with 
the  past  as  to  be  controlled  by  it,  then,  as  the  circum 
stances  cannot  themselves  select  and  determine  when 
this  connection  shall,  and  when  it  shall  not  be,  we  must 


FEEEDOM   OF   INTELLIGENCE.  93 

find  some  other  cause  for  this  connection,  and  our  pre 
vious  reasoning  upon  this  connecting  cause  recurs. 
Even  if  we  suppose  this  subsequent  connection  to  make 
the  effect,  i.  e.,  the  act  of  will,  necessary ;  it  does  not 
follow  that  the  cause,  which,  by  this  connecting,  pro 
duced  the  act  of  will,  was  necessitated  in  its  action  by 
the  preexisting  past ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  has  been 
shown  that,  if  so,  all  the  possible  acts  of  will  must  be 
simultaneous  with  the  supposed  past  existence,  which  is 
thus  presumed  to  cause  and  necessitate  them,  and  no 
new  act  of  will,  or  any  other  effect,  could  thereafter 
arise,  as  the  effect  of  such  connection  with  the  past. 

From  this  reasoning  it  also  follows,  that  there  must 
be  some  cause,  which  does  not,  of  necessity,  produce  its 
effects  immediately ;  but,  as  just  stated,  if  the  effect  of 
a  cause  may  be  deferred  one  instant,  it  may  be  deferred 
another  and  another,  and  so  on  forever,  and  hence  such 
cause  may  never  produce  its  effect ;  and  this  must  be  a 
cause,  a  power,  which,  so  far  as  the  past  is  concerned, 
may  act,  or  not  act.  Mind,  intelligence,  is  such  a  pow 
er,  and  it  is  conceivable  that  matter  in  motion  may  be, 
both  admitting  the  intervening  of  time  between  any 
two  extrinsic  changes  which  they  may  produce  by 
their  continuous  activity  ;  and  these  are  not  merely  the 
only  causes  that  we  know  of  as  admitting  of  this  de 
ferred  effect  of  their  activity,  but  the  only  real  causes 
of  any  kind,  that  we  can  conceive  of.  If  the  activity — 
the  motion — of  matter  ceases,  it  requires  external  force, 
again  to  put  it  in  motion.  If  the  activity  of  spirit 
ceases,  it  requires  some  change  within,  or  without  it 
self,  which  it  feels  or  perceives — some  want — to  rouse 
it  to  activity.  It  seems  conceivable,  that  these  two  kinds 
of  causes  may  act  and  react  upon  each  other,  at  least 


94  FREEDOM   OF   MEND   IN   WILLING. 

thus  far,  that  intelligence  may  put  matter  in  motion, 
and  thus  make  it  a  cause  of  change,  and  that  the 
changes  caused  by  matter  in  motion  may  furnish  the 
occasions  or  the  reasons  for  the  action  of  intelligent 
cause.  It  is  not,  however,  conceivable  that  matter  can 
act  directly  on  the  will  of  any  intelligence,  but,  only  by 
changing  the  circumstances,  occasion  it  to  want,  or  if 
listless  and  inert,  remind  and  call  its  attention  to  the 
conditions  of  want.  And  this  is  only  so  to  alter  its 
knowledge,  that  its  own  action,  freely  conformed  to  its 
own  knowledge,  will  be  different  from  what  it  would 
have  been  but  for  such  changes  by  matter.  The  same 
is  true  of  all  changes  or  circumstances  external  to  the 
mind  whose  action  is  thus  influenced,  and  which  are 
produced  by  any  cause  extrinsic  to  it,  or  even  by  itself. 
It  is  the  changed  knowledge  that  the  mind  uses  to  de 
termine  its  action,  without  regarding  how  it  became 
changed. 

If  matter  in  motion,  or  any  other  unintelligent  cause 
can  change  the  circumstances,  the  changes  can  of  them 
selves  produce  only  the  same  subsequent  effects  as  if 
such  changes  were  the  results  of  intelligent  cause.  -In 
the  one  case  it  would  be  cause  doing  without  design 
what,  in  the  other,  cause  did  with  design.  No  such 
causes  of  change  in  circumstances,  and  no  such  change 
of  circumstances,  can  act  directly  on  any  will  without 
making  that  will  its  own ;  and  can  only  influence  an 
other  to  will  differently  by,  in  some  way,  changing  its 
knowledge ;  and  this  it  may  do  by  actually  changing 
the  circumstances  which  the  mind  views,  or  the  mind's 
view  of  the  same  circumstances  without  any  change  in 
them.  This  is  the  limit  of  the  power  of  circumstances 
on  the  mind  in  willing,  and  all  their  power,  as  already 


FREEDOM   OF  INTELLIGENCE.  95 

shown,  depends  on  the  mind's  ability  to  will  freely — 
to  direct  its  own  action  in  conformity  with  its  own 
knowledge. 

In  many  cases,  in  which  the  act  of  will  is  supposed 
to  be  controlled  by  circumstances,  the  influence  is  not 
ascribed  to  any  existing  circumstances,  but  rather  to 
the  fact,  that  certain  circumstances  do  not  exist.  When 
such  non-existence  is  recognized  by  the  mind  before  its 
act  of  will  is  determined,  it  makes  a  portion  of  the 
knowledge  by  which  its  effort  is  influenced  or  deter 
mined,  but,  when  it  is  not  recognized,  it  may  only  influ 
ence  the  effect  of  its  effort.  In  the  case  of  non-existence, 
it  is  obvious  that  the  mind  is  influenced  in  its  effort, 
not  by  the  non-existent  thing,  but  by  its  own  knftwl- 
edge  of  such  non-existence,  and  of  the  consequences  at 
tending  it,  and  it  is  also  true,  in  the  case  of  any  external 
existence,  that  the  mind  is  influenced  in  its  efforts,  not 
by  the  thing  itself,  but  by  its  knowledge  of  the  existing 
thing,  and  of  the  consequences  attending  it.  The  thing 
itself,  if  unknown,  would  have  no  effect  upon  the  mind, 
or  upon  its  effort ;  and  it  is  only  by  changing  its  knowl 
edge,  that  changes  in  circumstance  have  any  influence 
whatever  on  the  mind's  action ;  and  change  of  effort, 
upon  changed  knowledge,  as  already  shown3  does  not 
conflict  with  freedom  of  effort. 

If  there  were  no  past  or  present  circumstances — 
nothing  external  to  itself — for  the  mind  to  know,  or 
even  if  there  were  none  known  to  it,  its  only  act  of 
will  or  effort  would  be  to  create  something  out  of  noth 
ing — to  begin  a  primary  creation.  In  doing  this  it 
would  not  of  course  be  controlled  by  existing  or  past 
circumstances.  And,  if  we  suppose  events  and  circum 
stances  already  existing  to  be  in  action  and  producing 


96  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

effects,  then,  the  only  reason  for  the  action  of  an  intelli 
gent  will  must  be,  either  to  arrest  or  to  vary  those 
effects,  or  to  produce  other  wholly  independent  effects. 
These  last  must  be  by  the  mind  acting  independently 
of  the  existing  circumstances,  excepting  so  far  as  it  per 
ceives  that  they  will  not  produce  the  effects ;  and  in 
this  case  the  mind  directs  its  own  action  or  effort,  by 
means  of  its  own  knowledge  of  the  end  wanted  and  of 
the  modes  of  reaching  it ;  or,  in  other  words,  perceiv 
ing  that  no  other  causes  are  producing  the  desired  re 
sult,  the  mind  exerts  its  own  causative  power  to  do  it. 

In  the  other  case,  when  the  mind  seeks  to  arrest  or 
to  vary  the  effects  of  the  supposed  action  of  circumstan 
ces',  its  effort  must  be  to  resist  or  control  their  influence ; 
which  is  the  reverse  of  control  of  the  mind  by  the  cir 
cumstances.  If,  however,  it  be  supposed  that  the  effort, 
or  volition,  is  one  of  the  effects  of  the  action  of  the  cir 
cumstances,  there  being  but  one  effect,  and  that  effect 
not  a  thing,  in  itself,  Jbut  merely  a  change  in  the  condi 
tion  of  a  thing  or  being,  such  change,  or  such  effort, 
or  volition,  must  be  the  effect  of  its  cause.  And 
hence,  in  such  case,  the  effort  or  volition  is  the  effort 
or.  volition  of  the  circumstances,  and  not  of  the  being 
with  which  it  is  associated,  and  argues  nothing  against 
the  freedom  of  that  being  when  it  exerts  its  power  to 
produce  an  effect — when  it  does  will. 

A  man  may  will  to  give  a  beggar  a  shilling,  and 
unexpectedly  find  he  has  no  shilling  to  give.  He  free 
ly  willed  to  give.  He  acted  upon  his  knowledge, — be 
lief, — that  he  had  the  shilling,  the  means  of  producing 
the  future  effect  which  he  designed ;  but,  in  the  execu 
tion  of  that  design  he  was  frustrated  by  the  actual  ex 
isting  circumstance.  It  is  in  the  doing  what  he  wills, 


FREEDOM  OF  INTELLIGENCE.  97 

and  not  in  the  willing,  that  a  man  may  be  directly  con 
trolled  by  the  external  circumstances. 

Of  the  three  and  only  conceivable  modes  of  influ 
encing  the  mind  in  willing,  from  without  the  mind  that 
wills,  two  of  them  are  inconsistent  with  any  exercise  of 
its  will,  and  the  other  is  effective  only  in  case  the  mind 
wills  freely.  If,  then,  in  willing,  it  is  influenced  by 
something  extrinsic,  it  must,  to  be  so  influenced,  will 
freely ;  and  if,  in  willing,  it  is  not  influenced  by  any 
thing  extrinsic,  it  must,  in  such  act,  be  wholly  under  its 
own  control,  and,  of  course,  be  free  in  such  act  of  will 
ing  ;  so  that,  if  a  mind  wills  at  all,  it  must  will  freely. 

The  same  result,  in  terms,  is  more  concisely  reached 
thus.  For  a  man  to  will  and  yet  not  will  freely,  is  to 
will  as  he  does  not  will ;  is  to  be  willing  when  he  is 
unwilling,  which  is  a  contradiction.  Reasoning,  then, 
directly  upon  the  nature  of  the  things  involved  in  the 
inquiry,  or  from  the  logical  relations  of  the  terms  by 
which  those  things  are  represented  in  the  common  dis 
course  of  men,  we  reach  the  same  conclusions,  that  the 
mere  act  of  willing  implies  a  free  action,  involving  the 
necessity  of  freedom  in  the  agent  willing ;  and  that  to 
will,  and  yet  not  will  freely,  involves  a  contradiction ; 
and  hence,  the  only  question  left,  in  regard  to  the  free 
dom  of  the  human  intelligence  in  willing,  is,  does  it 
will?  This  we  assumed  as  a  fundamental  premise  of 
our  argument,  and,  if  our  reasoning  is  correct,  the  con 
clusion  that  the  mind  wills  freely  is  within  our  pos 
tulate. 

Necessitarians  assert  that  the  existence  of  such  free 
dom  is  neither  true  in  fact,  nor  even  possible.     I  shall 
notice  their  arguments  in  Book  II.  of  this  work. 
5 


CHAPTER   XI. 

INSTINCT     AND     HABIT. 

IT  appears,  then,  that  every  being  that  really  wills, 
must  will  freely.  The  sphere  of  its  free  activity  may 
be  more  or  less  circumscribed,  varying  with  the  extent 
of  its  intelligence,  from  the  lowest,  most  sluggish  form 
of  sentient  life,  to  that  of  the  most  vital  and  ethereal 
spirit — from  the  contracted  world  of  the  monad,  to  the 
illimitable  sphere  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence.  Through 
out  this  infinite  range,  each,  in  its  own  sphere,  is  equally 
free.  If  I  want  a  piece  of  metal,  and,  from  deficiency 
of  knowledge,  know  only  tin  and  lead,  I  cannot  will  to 
have  gold ;  and  yet,  as  to  the  obtaining  of  tin  or  lead, 
my  efforts  may  be  as  free  as  though  I  knew  all  the 
metals.  "Within  this  limit  of  my  knowledge  I  am  as 
free  to  will,  as  if  I  were  omniscient.  If  I  have  knowl 
edge  of  other  metals,  but  also  know  that  I  have  power 
to  obtain  only  tin  or  lead,  I  will  not  make  the  effort  to 
obtain  gold ;  but  as  to  tin  and  lead,  I  may  will  as  freely 
as  if  I  were  omnipotent. 

Mere  matter— -unintelligent,  having  no  will — must 
be  wholly  controlled,  in  its  changes,  by  some  power  with 
out  itself;  all  real  changes  in  it,  except  the  subsidiary 
effects  of  the  finite,  must  be  referred  to  the  action  of 
the  Supreme  Intelligence.  Or  if,  in  any  sense,  matter 


IKSTESTCT  AND   HABIT.  99 

can  be  said  to  produce  change,  by  being  itself  in  mo 
tion,  such  change  is,  and,  as  before  shown,  must  be  a 
necessary  consequence  of  such  motion,  which  the  mat 
ter  has  no  power  to  prevent  or  to  vary.  It  has  no 
knowledge,  and,  so  far  as  its  OWTL  movements,  indepen 
dent  of  any  present  action  of  intelligence,  are  concerned, 
is  wholly  controlled  by  the  past.  In  short,  it  has  no 
will,  no  self-control,  and  hence  no  inherent  or  real  lib 
erty.  And  if  it  had,  having  no  knowledge,  it  would 
have  no  sphere  in  which  to  manifest  it.  If  to  senseless 
matter  we  add  only  sensation,  it  could  feel,  but  not 
will.  It  might  suffer,  and  yet  could  not  know  that  any 
change  is  either  possible  or  desirable.  As  yet  it  Jcnows 
no  want,  and  must  passively  suffer  or  enjoy  its  sensa 
tions.  If  now,  adding  want,  we  suppose  a  being  capable 
of  conceiving  that  by  change  its  suffering  may  be  di 
minished,  or  its  pleasure  enhanced,  it  may  then  want 
change ;  but  if  it  have  no  knowledge  as  to  what  change 
will  produce  the  effect  desired,  or  knows  no  real  or  sup- 
posable  mode  of  producing  such  change,  it  still  cannot 
will.  With  the  addition  of  such  knowledge,  will  be 
comes  possible,  though  it  does  not  follow  of  necessity  ; 
otherwise,  it  would  always  immediately  follow,  and 
there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  the  mind  to  select  as 
to  the  different  wants,  or  as  to  the  different  means  of 
gratifying  the  same  want ;  the  first  want  fe]t,  with  the 
first  known  means,  would  immediately  determine  the 
volition ;  and  no  exercise  of  the  judgment,  no  delibera 
tion  as  to  different  wants  and  modes,  would  be  possible, 
which  is  contrary  to  known  facts.  To  be  available  for 
effort,  the  knowledge  must  extend  to  the  future.  A 
being  which  does  not  perceive  enough  of  the  future  to 
conceive  that  the  effect  of  its  action  will,  or  may  be,  to 


100  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

gratify  its  want ;  for  instance,  that  taking  food  may  re 
lieve  its  hunger,  cannot  be  said  to  act,  to  eat,  from  any 
intelligence  of  its  own ;  and,  in  such  case,  some  power 
without  it  must  move  it  to  action  if  it  be  moved. 

It  lacks  an  essential  element  of  creative,  or  first 
cause ;  it  does  not  form  a  preconception,  perfect  or  im 
perfect,  true  or  false,  of  the  effect  of  its  effort.  It  can 
have  no  design,  no  purpose,  no  intent,  no  end  in  view ; 
and  hence  has  no  inducements  to  effort.  It  is  evident, 
that  to  will  to  do  anything  requires  an  idea,  a  precon 
ception,  of  the  thing,  or  of  something  to  be  done ;  to 
make  an  effort  and  have  no  object  of  effort ;  to  will  and 
not  will  anything  is  an  impossible  absurdity.  Such  a 
being,  though  it  might  still  have  sensations  in  the  pres 
ent  and  memories  of  the  past,  yet,  perceiving  no  rela 
tion  of  these  sensations  and  memories  to  the  future, 
would  have  no  means  within  itself  of  foreknowing  the 
effects  of  its  efforts  on  the  future,  or  that  there  would 
be  any  effect  whatever ;  and  would  not  will  as  to  that 
future.  It  would  have  no  will.  It  has  no  knowledge 
except  as  to  the  past  and  present ;  it  is  not,  in  any 
sense,  in  the  future,  and  cannot  act  in  the  future ;  its 
whole  sphere  of  thought  and  activity  is  confined  to  the 
past,  bounded  and  separated  from  the  future  by  the 
present.  It  cannot  change  the  past  and  any  effort  in 
regard  to  it,  as  to  remember,  or  to  recombine  what  it 
remembers,  is  really  an  effort  to  produce  &  future  effect. 
It  cannot  will  any  effect,  or  change,  as  to  the  past  or 
present ;  and  thus,  having  no  knowledge  available  for 
willing,  its  sphere  of  free  activity,  always  commensu 
rate  with  that  knowledge,  is  reduced  to  nothing.  All 
changes  in,  or  of  such  a  being,  must  still,  like  those  of 
unintelligent  matter,  be  effected  by  some  power  with- 


INSTINCT  AND   HABIT.  101 

out  itself,  with  only  this  difference,  that  the  being  may 
feel  and  recollect  the  changes,  and  matter  cannot 
There  is  no  conceivable  way  in  which  such  a  being 
could  manifest  its  sensations  and  memories  ;  and,  unless 
the  external  power,  acting  upon  it,  caused  it  to  exhibit 
the  phenomena  we  usually  attribute  to  internal  power 
— to  will — such  being  would  appear  to  us  the  same  as 
senseless  matter,  moved  only  by  external  forces.  If  all 
finite  intelligences  were  of  this  order,  any  real  changes 
in  matter  could  only  be  by  the  will  of  God.  The  same 
also  of  a  being  with  sensation,  but  no  power  of  volun 
tary  action — no  will ;  and  a  being  with  no  knowledge 
of  good  and  evil, — using  these  terms  in  a  large  sense, — 
would  have  no  choice  as  to  its  sensations,  no  want,  and 
110  will.  In  such  beings  all  change  must  be  either  im 
mediately  or  mediately  by  the  act  of  God.  The  neces 
sity  of  this  control  by  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  to  the 
preservation  of  the  being,  or  to  any  change  in  it,  dimin 
ishes  as  the  being  derives  or  acquires  power  itself  to 
contrive  those  plans,  which  are  essential  to  its  existence 
and  well  being.* 

The  lowest  order  of  intelligence,  then,  with  which 
will  is  compatible,  is  that  in  which  there  is  only  one 
want ;  with  the  knowledge  of  only  one  means  of  grati 
fying  it ;  and  that  knowledge  wholly  intuitive.  We 
say  intuitive,  because  this  implies  less  intelligence  than 
acquired  knowledge ;  which  presupposes  an  ability  to 
learn  by  observation,  or  by  rational  process.  Even  to 
act  from  knowledge  acquired  by  simple  observation,  re 
quires  an  inference ;  whereas  this  inference,  or  rather 
the  idea  or  fact  inferred,  may  itself  be  the  subject  of 
the  intuitive  knowledge.  For  instance,  if  I  have  ob- 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XIX. 


102  FREEDOM   OF  MIND  IN   WILLING. 

served  that,  when  at  one  time  I  willed  to  move  my 
hand,  it  did  move  ;  I  may,  from  association,  expect,  or, 
having  some  previous  idea  of  the  uniformity  of  cause 
and  effect,  infer  that  when  again  I  repeat  the  effort,  the 
effect  may  be  the  same ;  whereas,  the  knowledge  that 
willing  the  movement  of  the  hand  is  the  way  to  move 
it,  may  be  directly  imparted  intuitively.  In  the  former 
case  I  have  to  devise  the  plan  to  reach  the  end  from 
my  own  knowledge  ;  in  the  latter,  the  plan  of  effort  is 
previously  devised  for  me.  The  sphere  of  effort,  as  also 
of  freedom,  in  a  being  with  only  one  want  and  one 
known  means  of  gratifying  it,  would  be  limited  to  grati 
fying  its  only  want  in  the  only  mode  known  to  it,  or 
not  gratifying  it  at  all.  It  is  still  a  sphere  commensu 
rate  with  knowledge.  The  gratification  of  its  want 
would  still  depend  on  its  own  effort,  without  which  its 
want  would  not  be  gratified.  To  reduce  this  to  its  low 
est  terms,  we  must  suppose  the  being  having  only  one 
want  and  an  intuitive  perception  of  only  one  mode  of 
gratifying  it ;  also  to  have  no  knowledge — no  thought 
— that  it  may  possibly  be  better  not  to  gratify  it.  If, 
in  this  hypothesis,  we  increase  the  number  of  wants, 
and  suppose  that  only  one  of  them  arises  at  a  time,  it 
makes  no  material  difference.  In  each  case,  as  it  oc 
curs,  it  is  still  one  want,  one  known  mode  of  change, 
and  no  knowledge,  or  thought  that  it  may  be  better  not 
to  adopt  that  mode,  or  to  make  no  effort  to  produce 
that  change.  If  more  than  one  want  arise  at  once,  or 
if  the  being  knows  of  more  than  one  mode  applicable 
to  the  want,  it  must  select  among  them  ;  it  must  com 
pare  and  judge,  requiring  that  mode  of  effort,  which  is 
known  as  an  exercise  of  the  rational  faculties ;  but, 
under  the  condition  above  named,  no  comparison  is  in- 


INSTINCT  AND   HABIT.  103 

stituted  ;  there  is  no  occasion,  no  room  for  the  exercise 
of  the  rational  faculties.  Now  all  animals,  so  far  as  we 
can  ascertain,  come  into  existence  with  wants,  and  some 
one  known  mode  of  gratifying  each  want,  and  no  thought 
that  it  may  be  better  not  to  gratify  it ;  and  hence,  re 
quiring  no  additional  knowledge  to  direct  its  effort,  and 
of  course  no  exercise  of  the  rational  faculties,  no  delib 
eration  to  obtain  it ;  and  this  is  INSTINCT. 

Instinctive  action  still  involves  a  free  effort  of  intel 
ligence,  though  it  precludes  the  exercise  of  the  rational 
faculties  in  devising  the  mode  of  effort,  or  in  selecting 
from  different  modes  already  devised  by  itself,  or  by 
others.  Having  the  want,  the  requisite  knowledge  of 
the  means,  and  the  power  to  use  the  means,  or  to  make 
an  effort,  it  makes  that  effort.  The  effort  in  such  case 
is  spontaneous ;  no  deliberation  being  required ;  but 
there  is  still  an  effort.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  certain,  that 
under  those  conditions  such  being  will  make  the  one 
particular  effort,  the  only  one  known  to  it ;  but  this  is 
not  because  it  is  constrained  to  make,  but,  because  it  is 
in  no  way  restrained  from  making  such  effort.  It  feels 
the  want,  has  the  power  to  gratify  it,  knows  how,  and 
being  free  to  exert  its  power,  does  itself  exert  it.  The 
effort  still  is  the  actual,  the  uncontrolled,  the  free  effort 
of  the  being  that  makes  it,  and  without  which  effort  the 
effect  would  not  be  produced.  That  it  has  no  knowl 
edge  of  any  other  effort,  does  not  affect  its  freedom  in 
making  that  which  it  does  know.  It  is  not  as  in  the 
case  of  matter  which  some  other  power  has  put  in  mo 
tion  and  directed — the  freedom  of  which,  if  it  can  have 
any,  consists  in  the  absence  of  any  obstruction,  or  coun 
teraction — for  in  instinctive  action  intelligence  still  uses 
and  directs  its  own  powers,  and,  without  such  self- 


104  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

movement,  there  would  be  no  exercise  of  its  powers. 
That  the  knowledge  by  which  it  directs  such  exercise 
or  effort  is  intuitive  and  not  acquired,  cannot  aifect  its 
freedom  in  using  its  knowledge  for  directing  its  efforts, 
or  for  any  other  purpose.  In  either  case,  once  in  pos 
session,  it  is  equally  knowledge,  and  the  mind's  own 
knowledge.  An  act  of  will  is  the  primary  self-move 
ment  of  the  mind,  and  not  an  antecedent  cause  of  it.  The 
effect,  or  sequence  which  it,  as  a  first  cause,  produces, 
is  some  change,  of  body  or  mind.  In  an  act  of  will  or 
effort,  the  agent,  even  when  he  knows  only  one  mode 
of  action,  is  free  in  a  different  and  wider  sense  than 
that  of  not  being  counteracted  in  an  action  which  some 
external  power  has  imposed  upon  him. 

The  agent  willing  is  free  to  make  and  to  direct  the 
effort  which  it  does  itself  make/  If  there  be  nothing 
in  existence  but  himself  acting  through  his  will,  and  his 
want  and  knowledge,  which  are  independent  of  his  will, 
the  effort  may  yet  be  made.  The  want  itself  cannot 
know,  or  apply  the  knowledge.  The  knowledge  itself 
cannot  know  the  want  and  adapt  the  effort  to  it,,  nor 
could  both  combined.  This  must  be  done  by  some 
thing  which  is  not  only  conscious  of  both  the  want  and 
the  knowledge,  but  is  capable  of  perceiving  the  rela 
tions  between  them, — by  the  intelligent  being, — and,  as 
there  is  no  other  existing  activity  (for  by  our  hypothesis 
there  is  no  other  existence  of  any  kind  but  the  one  active 
being,  the  want,  and  the  knowledge),  the  act  must  be 
wholly  its  act ;  and,  there  being  no  other  power,  it 
must  act  without  restraint  or  constraint,  it  must  act 
freely.  Under  our  theory  of  instinctive  action,  the 
knowledge  being  reduced  to  the  least  quantity  with 
which  will  is  compatible,  the  spheres  of  freedom  and 


INSTINCT  AND  HABIT.  105 

of  will  there  reach  their  least  assignable  limits,  but  are 
still  coexistent ;  and,  like  the  decreasing  quantities  of 
the  differential  calculus,  retain  their  relations  to  each 
other,  even  in  their  infinitesimal  forms ;  and  when  free 
dom  vanishes,  the  will  of  necessity  vanishes  also ;  and 
this  occurs  when  the  knowledge  of  the  future  is  reduced 
to  zero,  admitting  of  no  preconception  of  any  change  to 
be  willed,  or  made  the  object  of  effort.  It  will  be  ob 
served,  then,  that  the  only  essential  difference  between 
the  observ&blephenornena.  of  mechanical  and  of  instinct 
ive  action,  arises  from  the  incorporation  into  a  vital  be 
ing  of  one  iota  of  knowledge, — the  knowledge  of  one 
means  corresponding  to  one  want.  Without  this,  even 
if  a  being  had  sensation  and  memory,  its  instinctive 
movements  must  be  produced  without  any  effort  of  its 
own  by  some  external  power ;  and,  whether  the  subject 
thus  moved  be  that  of  being  with  spirit,  bones  and 
muscles,  or  that  of  stars  and  planets,  such  movements 
are  purely  mechanical.  The  proximity  of  the  two,  sep 
arated  only  by  this  single  step,  has  caused  confusion  in 
regard  to  them,  and  led  some  to  doubt,  whether  what 
we  class  as  instinctive  actions  are  not,  really,  mechanic 
al.  And  it  seems  quite  conceivable  that  the  first  instinct 
ive  movements,  as,  for  instance,  that  of  the  infant  in 
obtaining  food,  are  not  preceded  by  any  act  of  its  will, 
but  that  all  the  movements  of  its  muscles  to  that  end 
are  as  immediately  produced  by  the  Supreme  Intelli 
gence,  without  the  action,  prior  or  present,  of  the  in 
fant's  own  will,  as  are  the  beginning  of  movements  in 
lifeless  matters ;  that  these  first  motions  of  the  infant 
may  be  but  God's  teaching;  his  mode  of  practically 
and  directly  imparting  the  knowledge,  which  is  essen 
tial  to  its  existence,  till,  by  imitation,  or  other  means, 
5* 


106  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

it  learns  to  evoke,  or  to  invoke  the  same  effects  by  its 
own  efforts ;  as  a  tutor,  with  his  own  hand,  sometimes 
guides  that  of  his  pupil,  to  teach  him  how  to  write.  If 
it  has  not  the  knowledge  that  it  can  will,  and  also  how 
to  will,  by  intuition,  it  must,  in  some  way,  acquire  it 
before  it  can  itself  will,  either  freely  or  otherwise.  It 
seems  quite  conceivable  that  this  and  other  intuitive 
knowledge  may  be  thus  practically  taught  us,  and  es 
pecially  in  regard  to  our  bodily  movements ;  and  yet, 
on  closer  examination,  we  may  find  that  this  is  practi 
cally  impossible,  and  that  such  knowledge  must  be 
taught,  or  must  consist  in  an  idea,  or  conception  of  the 
mode  directly  imparted  as  such,  and  not  derived  from 
the  observation  of  external  movements  of  our  own 
bodies,  or  those  of  others.  The  moving  of  the  hand  by 
external  force  is  so  entirely  distinct  from  the  internal 
effort  to  move  it,  that  the  knowledge  of  the  latter  could 
no  more  be  obtained  from  the  former,  than  the  idea  of 
weight  from  color.  ISTor  could  I  ever  learn  to  move 
my  hand  by  will,  from  seeing  another  person  move  his 
hand, — for  the  process  of  will  by  which  he  does  it,  is 
not  cognizable  by  the  senses  through  which  alone  I 
could  learn  it  in  observing  the  external.  All  that  I 
could  possibly  learn  from  seeing  another  person  move 
his  hand,  by  will,  or  from  having  my  own  hand  moved 
by  a  force  exerted  through  the  will  of  another,  would 
be  the  velocity  and  direction  of  its  movements,  and  not 
the  process  of  will  by  which  it  was  so  moved.  Still 
less  could  I  get  this  idea  of  movement  by  will,  from  any 
movement  of  my  hand  by  an  external  force,  which  I 
did  not  refer  to  any  act  of  will  whatever.  JSTor  can  the 
mind  first  get  this  idea  by  the  application  of  its  reason 
to  such  external  phenomena ;  for  no  one  has  ever  yet 


INSTINCT   AND   HABIT.  107 

discovered  any  rational  connection  between  the  effort 
and  the  movement. 

The  mind,  then,  does  not  get  this  knowledge  of 
muscular  movement  at  will,  by  observation,  and  must 
get  it  by  intuition ;  and  by  it  we  know  only  the  fact 
without  any  rationale  of  it.  It  must  be  an  ultimate 
idea  directly  imparted  to  us,  and  we  may,  with  the  first 
want  of  muscular  action,  be  supposed  to  know  the  mode 
as  well  as  at  any  subsequent  recurrence  of  such  want. 
There  is  nothing  gained  by  supposing  the  first  muscular 
movement  to  be  mechanical,  or  the  effect  of  external 
power.  The  facts  in  regard  to  a  want  which  comes  into 
existence  after  we  have  become  capable  of  observing, 
confirm  the  conclusion  that  such  knowledge  is  direct 
ly  imparted  to  us,  and  that  all  that  is  voluntary  in  sub 
sequent  action,  is  voluntary  in  the  first  instance  ;  that 
it  is  our  effort,  and  is  not  the  direct  effect  of  the  exter 
nal  power  which  imparts  this  knowledge.  The  change 
in  our  knowledge  is  only  a  reason  for  Changing  our  own 
efforts. 

By  the  same  mode  of  reasoning  it  may  be  shown, 
that  we  must  also  intuitively  know  the  mode  of  putting 
our  mental  faculties  in  action ;  and  as  every  effort  we 
make  is,  in  the  first  instance,  to  affect  some  portion  of 
either  our  body  or  mind,  we  are  justified  in  regarding 
all  these  early  actions,  which  we  term  instinctive,  as 
the  consequence  of  the  effort  of  the  being  to  gratify  its 
want  by  a  mode  intuitively  known  to  it ;  and  with  a 
preconception,  at  least,  of  the  proximate  effects  of  that 
effort ;  and  hence,  as  really  voluntary  and  not  mere 
mechanical  acts,  from  which,  indeed,  they  are  sufficient 
ly  distinguished  by  the  existence  of  the  effort  and  its 
prerequisites,  want  and  knowledge. 


108  FREEDOM   OF  MIND  IN  WILLING. 

If  there  are  any  such  movements  of  the  body  pro 
duced  by  external  power,  as  have  just  been  mentioned 
as  conceivable,  they  are  as  purely  mechanical  as  those 
of  inert  substance. 

In  nature,  when  God  works  out  his  own  plan,  the 
action  is  called  mechanical.  "When  he  imparts  the 
knowledge  of  a  plan  to  a  finite  being  that  works  it  out, 
the  action  of  this  being  is  instinctive. 

The  uniformity  and  symmetry  which  we  see  in  crys 
tals,  are  God's  perfect  work,  and  rank  with  the  mechan 
ical.  The  bee,  in  forming  its  cells,  though  it'  executes 
with  less  nicety  and  precision,  works  from  a  plan  equal 
ly  uniform  and  equally  symmetrical,  which  God  has 
furnished  to.  it,  and  its  action  is  instinctive.  It  knows 
the  plan,  but  probably  does  not  know  why  it  is  prefer 
able  to  others.  Some  of  its  advantages  were  unknown, 
even  to  scientific  men,  until  revealed  by  the  application 
of  the  differential  calculus. 

We  have,  thea,  incorporated  in  our  beings,  in  the 
first  instance,  the  power  to  will ;  the  want,  which  re 
quires  the  exercise  of  that  power ;  and  the  knowledge 
which  is  requisite  to  its  early  and  very  limited  exer 
cise  ;  also  the  knowledge  that  by  will  we  can  put  in 
exercise  those  mental  faculties  by  which  we  may  come 
to  more  perfect  knowledge,  which  sometimes  itself 
gratifies  the  want  and  at  others  reveals  the  action  appo 
site  to  the  want.  We  also  thus  have  the  knowledge  of 
the  first  step  into  the  external  by  muscular  action. 

The  power  to  will,  a  want,  and  corresponding  knowl 
edge  of  means  to  gratify  it,  are  constitutional  elements 
of  every  creature  that  wills  ;  and  such  creature  can  at 
once  will,  and  will  freely,  because  it  is  constitutionally 
such  a  creature  as  it  is. 


INSTINCT   AND   HABIT.  109 

Instinct  may  teach  the  infant  only  sufficient  to  en 
able  it  to  come  within  the  reach  of  easy  effort  to  accom 
plish  its  object;  and  this  may  be  designed  to  induct  it 
into  a  habit  of  making  effort,  thus  subserving  a  double 
purpose.  If  this  be  so,  it  will  not  materially  vary  the 
previous  results. 

The  instinctive  actions,  then,  being  voluntary,  in 
what  respect  do  they  differ  from  other  acts  of  will  ? 
The  whole  phenomena  of  most  voluntary  actions,  as  ob 
served  in  the  adult  man,  are  embodied  in  the  want,  the 
knowledge,  including  the  preconception  of  the  future, 
the  deliberation,  the  volition,  and  the  effect.  The  dis 
tinction  we  are  seeking  is  not  in  the  faculty  of  will  it 
self  ;  we  have  not  two  wills.  It  is  not  in  the  want,  for 
the  same  want  may  often  be  equally  gratified  by  the 
instinctive,  or  by  other  modes.  It  cannot  be  in  the  vo 
lition,  for  the  same  volition  may  arise  in  instinctive,  as 
in  other  modes.  It  must  then  be  in  one  or  both  of 
the  other  two  elements — deliberation  and  knowledge, 
that  is,  in  knowledge  itself,  or  in  the  mode  of  obtain 
ing,  or  of  applying  it.  Now,  one  of  the  most  obvious 
peculiarities  of  instinctive  action  is  the  absence  of  de 
liberation,  or  of  any  exercise  of  the  judgment,  or  ra 
tional  faculties,  in  devising  or  selecting  means ;  and 
this  condition  of  absence,  as  we  have  just  shown,  can  be 
perfect  only  when  the  knowledge  of  the  mode  of  action 
is  intuitive. 

In  further  confirmation  of  this  we  may  remark  that 
if,  on  any  particular  occasion  for  action,  we  have  not 
the  requisite  knowledge,  we  must,  in  some  way,  acquire 
it ;  and  in  its  acquisition,  or  in  its  application,  or  in 
both,  must  use  our  rational  faculties.*  We  have  also 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XX. 


110  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

shown,  that  the  mode  of  producing  bodily  movements 
by  will,  must  be  intuitively  known ;  and  that  this 
knowledge  is  simply  of  the  fact,  without  any  such  ra 
tionale  of  it  as  will  enable  us  to  vary  the  mode  by  any 
mental  process.  We  know  but  one  mode,  and  this 
knowledge  is  intuitive.  In  the  first  applications  of  this 
knowledge,  we  do  not  know  that  there  may  be  some 
reason  for  not  making  the  movement,  and  such  action 
then  is  purely  instinctive.  As,  in  our  efforts  to  produce 
external  changes,  we  always  begin  with  bodily  move 
ments,  they  form  the  substratum  of  our  plans  of  action 
for  such  changes.  In  these  plans  we  subsequently  learn 
rationally  to  combine  muscular  movements  to  produce 
desired  results,  for  which  our  intuitive  knowledge  is 
insufficient.  Our  plan  may  embrace  certain  particular 
movements,  the  order  of  which  we  arrange ;  but  we  do 
not  attempt  to  arrange,  or  plan  the  mode  of  producing 
these  particular  movements.  "When,  subsequently,  we 
have  learned  to  look  about  us  to  see  if  there  is  sufficient 
reason  for  not  making  the  contemplated  movement,  and 
have  decided  that  there  is  not,  we  are  in  the  same  con 
dition  as  if  we  had  no  knowledge,  no  thought,  that  there 
might  possibly  be  such  reason.  In  the  last  analysis,  the 
bodily  movement  itself  is  always  instinctive ;  there  is 
no  plan,  no  deliberation,  no  exercise  of  judgment,  as  to 
the  mode  of  making  it ;  but  only  as  to  the  particular 
movements,  or  series  of  movements,  to  be  effected  by 
the  known  mode  ;  and  the  intuitive  knowledge  that  by 
will  we  can  produce  muscular  movement,  is  the  starting 
point  of  all  our  efforts  for  external  changes. 

From  this  one  common  point  both  instinctive  and 
rational  actions  take  their  departure.  In  the  instinct 
ive,  the  plan  of  action,  or  the  successive  order  of  the 


INSTINCT   AND  HABIT.  Ill 

series  of  volitions  required  to  produce  the  intended  re 
sult  is  also  intuitively  known,  is  so  imparted,  either 
mediately  or  immediately,  that  it  is  the  same  as  if  in 
corporated  in  the  being,  and  requires  no  rational  process 
to  ascertain  it.  The  whole  plan  may  be  known  at  once, 
or  only  each  step,  singly,  as  it  is  reached.  In  either 
case  it  still  requires  the  exercise  of  the  will  to  act  out 
the  plan  thus  furnished  to  it,  without  which  the  knowl 
edge  even  of  the  whole  plan,  though  associated  with  a 
want  demanding  its  execution,  would  not  avail. 

The  kid,  the  moment  it  is  born,  can  rise  upon  its 
feet  and  go  directly  to  the  food  its  mother  supplies.  It 
must  not  only  know  that  by  volition  it  can  produce 
muscular  movement,  but  it  must  know  what  particular 
movements  to  make,  and  the  order  of  their  succession. 
It  works  from  a  plan  furnished  to  it,  and  not  designed 
or  contrived  by  itself.  As,  by  its  will,  it  still  produces 
effects  in  the  future,  it  is  creative,  but  in  an  inferior  de 
gree.  It  creates,  as  the  most  untaught  laborer,  who  re 
moves  the  earth  from  the  bed  of  a  canal,  has  an  agency 
in  creating  the  canal,  though  he  acts  only  under  the  di 
rection  of  the  superior  intelligence,  which  designed  and 
comprehends  the  whole  structure.  The  inferior  free 
agent,  while  executing  all  within  its  own  sphere  of  ac 
tion, — all  the  plan  which  itself  forms,  or  apprehends-^ 
may  subserve  the  purposes  of  a  superior  intelligence 
and  help  to  execute  its  higher  designs.  But  the  intui 
tive  knowledge  of  a  mode  of  producing  bodily  move 
ment,  except  when  mere  bodily  movement  is  itself  the 
primary  want,  would  answer  no  purpose  unless  the 
knowledge  of  the  particular  bodily  movement,  or  series 
of  movements,  required  to  reach  the  end,  is  superadded. 
If  this  is  intuitive  also,  requiring  no  exercise  of  the  ra- 


112  FREEDOM  OF  MIND  IN  WILLING. 

tional  faculties,  no  deliberation  as  to  the  plan,  or  order 
of  successive  efforts,  then  the  action,  or  series  of  actions, 
is  purely  instinctive.  But  to  shut  out  all  ground  for 
the  exercise  of  the  rational  faculties,  there  must,  as  be 
fore  stated,  be  only  one  want,  one  known  mode  of  grat 
ifying  it,  and  no  knowledge  or  thought  that  it  may  pos 
sibly  be  better  not  to  gratify  it. 

If  we  suppose  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  two  or 
more  modes  of  gratifying  .the  same  want,  or  that  there 
are  conflicting  wants,  we  have  a  case  for  the  exercise  of 
the  judgment.  In  the  former  of  these  cases,  the  mind 
may  be  said  to  be  confined  to  the  two  or  more  modes. 
It  has  not  designed  or  planned  either  of  them ;  but  it 
may  design  and  plan,  and  must  decide  as  between 
them ;  and  then  the  subsequent  action  becomes,  so  far,  a 
rational  one ;  and,  if  the  decision  is  not  immediately 
obvious  to  the  knowing  sense,  deliberation — effort  to 
examine  and  obtain  more  knowledge — with  consequent 
delay,  becomes  an  element  in  the  mental  process  of  de 
termining  the  final  effort.  The  same  is  obvious  in  the 
case  of  conflicting  wants  ;  and  we  may  remark  that  any 
indisposition  to  the  effort,  or  a  disposition  to  be  passive 
and  inert,  is  a  conflicting  want. 

When  the '  plan  of  action  was  before  unknown,  and 
yet  is  obvious  to  simple  mental  perception,  without  pre 
liminary  effort  to  acquire  it,  the  case  approaches  very 
nearly  to  that  of  action  from  a  plan  intuitively  known, 
if,  indeed,  it  can  be  practically  distinguished  from  it. 

Another  easy  divergence,  from  -the  purely  instinct 
ive,  seems  to  be  that  in  which  the  knowledge  of  the 
required  change,  or  series  of  changes,  instead  of  being 
intuitive,,  is  derived  from  the  simple  observation  of  such 
external  changes,  or  movements  as  we  can  see  others 


INSTINCT  AND  HABIT.  113 

make,  requiring  only  to  be  imitated.  This  differs  from 
the  intuitive,  in  requiring  an  effort  of  attention  to  ob 
serve  the  movements  or  their  successive  order  ;  and  an 
exercise  of  the  rational  faculty  to  infer,  that  as  we 
have  the  power  to  move  our  muscles,  we  may  there 
fore  be  able  to  make  similar  movements,  and  that  they 
will  lead  to  similar  results.  We  might  thus  learn  to 
apply  our  knowledge  of  muscular  movement  by  will ; 
though,  as  already  shown,  we  never  could  acquire  this 
knowledge  by  merely  observing  others. 

As  distinguishing  features  of  instinctive  action,  we 
have,  then,  the  absence  of  any  plan,  design,  or  contri 
vance,  on  the  part  of  the  active  being,  to  attain  its  end  ;  . 
and,  in  place  of  such  contrivance  of  its  own,  the  knowl 
edge  of  a  plan  directly  imparted  to  it,  ready  made,  re 
quiring  no  contrivance  of  its  own,  and  no  deliberation. 

The  circumstances  under  which  such  actions  are 
most  conspicuous,  perhaps  the  only  cases  of  purely  in 
stinctive  action  in  human  beings,  occur  in  the  infant, 
when  its  whole  attention  is  absorbed  by  the  want  of  the 
moment,  when  its  knowledge  is  limited  to  its  intuitive 
perception  tof  only  one  mode  of  gratifying  that  want, 
and  it  has  yet  no  thought  that  it  may  be  better  not  to 
gratify  it.  In  brutes  it  continues  more  prominent,  be 
cause  they  learn  less  of  other  than  the  intuitive  modes. 
It  seems,  too,  not  improbable  that,  with  the  deficient 
ability  to  plan  rational  modes  of  action,  the  necessities  of 
existence  may  require  an  increase  of  the  intuitive  modes ; 
but  if  our  distinction  is  well  founded,  we  cannot  deny 
rational  actions  to  most  of  the  inferior  animals,  or  even 
that  a  large  portion  of  their  actions  are  of  this  class, 
though  more  alloyed  with  the  instinctive,  than  those  of 
man.  The  hungry  dog,  acting  instinctively,  would  not 


114  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IS   WILLING. 

hesitate  to  seize  tlie  joint  of  meat  lie  sees  before  him  in 
his  master's  kitchen ;  but  he  learns  that,  in  the  presence 
of  the  cook,  the  effort  to  get  it  may  be  unsuccessful,  or 
be  attended  with  unpleasant  consequences,  and  he  gov 
erns  himself  in  conformity  to  this  acquired  knowledge, 
including  his  consequent  preconceptions  of  future  effects, 
and  foregoes  the  effort  to  appropriate  the  meat.  If,  in 
view  of  the  circumstances,  he  plans  to  wait  the  absence 
of,  or  in  some  way  to  induce  the  cook  to  let  him  have 
the  meat,  he  exhibits  still  more  of  rational  design  than 
by  simple  forbearance.  Though  instinctive  action  is 
thus  less  conspicuous,  as  the  acquired  knowledge  in 
creases,  it  is  conceivable  that  a  being  with  any  amount 
of  such  acquirement  may  act  without  using  it  to  contrive 
means,  and  may  wholly  disregard  any  plan  it  may  have 
previously  contrived  for  similar  occasions.  In  man,  a 
want  may  be  so  imperative  or  so  absorbing  as  to  ex 
clude  all  others ;  and  also  all  comparison  of  the  differ 
ent  modes  of  gratifying  it ;  and  all  deliberation  as  to 
whether  to  gratify  it  or  not ;  and,  in  such  cases,  he  acts 
as  a  being  having  only  one  want,  one  means  of  gratify 
ing  it,  and  no  knowledge  or  thought  that  it  may  be  bet 
ter  not  to  gratify  it ;  if  the  one  known  means  has  to  be 
found,  the  action  is  a  rational  one ;  but  if  it  is  intui 
tively  known,  all  the  conditions  of  purely  instinctive 
action  are  fulfilled.  Cases  in  which  our  rational  actions 
thus  approximate  more  or  less  nearly  to  the  instinctive, 
occur  when  we  are  under  the  influence  of  some  absorb 
ing  passion,  as,  for  instance,  of  fear  excited  to  terror,  in 
sudden  fright,  and  we  yield  to  the  impulse  to  flee  from 
whatever  has  terrified  us.  If,  in  so  doing,  the  mode  is 
immediately  perceived,  or  if  it  is  a  result  of  our  own 
efforts  in  searching  out  and  designing  a  plan  of  action, 


INSTINCT  AND  HABIT.  115 

but,  under  the  excitement,  so  instantaneously  formed 
and  applied  that  the  element  of  deliberation  is  very 
minute,  the  action  will  be  liable  to  be  confounded 
with  the  instinctive,  though  properly  belonging  to  the 
rational. 

That  we  flee  from  danger,  and  not  toward  it,  indi 
cates  the  formation  of  a  plan  of  action  founded  on  our 
perception  of  the  circumstances.  We  may  intuitively 
know  that  to  avoid  being  burned  we  must  move  from 
the  fire,  and  how  to  so  move ;  but  we  must  still  per 
ceive- — know — where  the  fire  is,  and  the  combination 
of  the  two  knowledges  may  be  by  a  rational  process. 
In  other  words,  the  knowledge  of  the  general  facts  may 
be  intuitive,  and  their  application  to  particular  cases  ra 
tional.  In  running  from  a  fire,  we  may  fall  down  a 
precipice  of  which  we  well  knew,  but  did  not  take  time 
to  embrace  the  knowledge  in  our  deliberation,  or  use  it 
in  the  preconception  of  the  effects  of  our  action.*  When 
we  are  conscious  of  forming  the  plan  of  action  at  the 
moment,  however  quickly,  we  are  in  no  danger  of  con 
founding  it  with  the  instinctive.  The  distinction,  how 
ever,  is  practically  not  always  obvious,  and  especially 
in  those  cases  in  which  the  plan  of  action  is  easily  and 
quickly  formed.  The  movement  of  the  jaw,  to  relieve 
the  pain  occasioned  by  the  pressure  of  a  person's  own 
teeth  on  his  finger,  would,  no  doubt,  be  deemed  by 
some  an  instinctive  action ;  but  there  have  been  cases 
of  idiots  who  did  not  know  enough  to  d"o  this,  though 
they  had  all  the  intuitive  knowledge  requisite  to  make 
the  movement,  as  evinced  by  their  voluntarily  making 
it  whenever  they  ate ;  showing  that,  at  least  in  them, 
an  inference  from  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXI. 


116  FREEDOM  OF  MIND  IN   WILLING. 

— more  knowledge — was  required  to  enable  them  to 
apply  their  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  mode  of  moving 
the  jaw,  in  such  way  as  would  relieve  the  pain  of  the 
finger.  It  may  be  as  difficult  for  such  an  idiot  to  form 
a  plan  for  extricating  his  finger,  as  for  a  horse  to  plan 
to  extricate  his  foot  when  it  gets  entangled  in  the  hal 
ter.  The  pain  being  in  his  finger,  he,  not  improbably, 
seeks  to  move  and  thus  to  effect  change  in  it,  as  the 
horse  pulls  on  his  entangled  foot  for  relief;  in  both 
cases,  from  not  knowing  plans  adapted  to  the  circum 
stances,  aggravating  the  difficulty.  In  such  persons,  the 
intuitive  knowledge  may  be  less  than  in  some  others ; 
but  the  particular  point  at  which  the  intuitive  must  be 
aided  by  the  acquired,  is  not  material  to  the  illustra 
tion.* 

Though,  in  terms,  the  rational  may  be  clearly  de 
fined  by  the  formation  of  a  plan  of  action  by  the  active 
being  ;  and  the  instinctive,  by  the  plan  of  action  being 
furnished  to  it  by  intuition,  ready  formed ;  yet  prac 
tically  we  do  not  always  readily  perceive  the  exact 
boundary  between  them.f  They  are  often  blended, 
and  perhaps  the  rational  always  embraces  something  of 
the  instinctive.  We  may  rationally  plan  a  series  of  suc 
cessive  muscular  movements  in  a  certain  order,  but,  as 
before  stated,  tiie  mode  of  making  each  of  the  move 
ments  by  will  is  always  instinctive.  The  same  rule  will 
also  apply  to  the  use  of  our  mental  powers  by  a  pre 
arranged  plan. 

The  mode  in  which  the  knowledge  of  a  plan  of  ac 
tion  is  acquired  does  not  affect  the  action  itself.  Once 
acquired,  whether  by  the  teachings  of  the  Infinite,  or  of 
a  finite  intelligence,  or  by  our  own  rational  investiga- 

*  See  Appen'dix,  Note  XXII.  f  See  Appendix,  Note  XXIII. 


INSTINCT  AND  HABIT.  117 

tion,  or  by  simple  perception,  the  acting  from  it  is  the 
same ;  and,  having  memory,  we  can  repeat  or  reenact 
the  same,  by  mere  association  with  our  wants  knowing 
when  to  repeat  it.  The  instinctive  and  the  rational 
both  admit  of  being  thus  repeated  by  memory  and 
mere  imitation,  though  neither  memory  nor  imitation 
could  have  had  any  part  in  our  first  instinctive  actions, 
for  there  were  then  no  actions  to  remember  or  to  imi 
tate  ;  and  when  ever  the  young  intelligence  begins  to 
work  by  memory  of  a  plan  adopted  in  previous  acts, 
instead  of  one  known  by  a  direct  intuition  applicable  to 
the  case,  it  begins  to  be  the  subject  of  HABIT.  The  same 
of  those  actions  which  we  have  ourselves  designed,  how 
ever  complicated,  however  much  contrivance  and  inge 
nuity  they  may  have  originally  required,  when,  after 
frequent  repetition,  we  perform  them  in  proper  order 
by  memory  instead  of  by  a  reference  to  the  original 
reasons  of  that  order,  they,  too,  have  become  HABITUAL. 
The  peculiar  characteristic  of  habit  seems  to  be  that 
we  become  so  familiar  with  the  plan  by  which  the  de 
sired  result  is  to  be  reached,  that,  at  every  stage  of  it, 
we  know  what  to  do  from  what  has  already  been  done, 
and  do  not  have  to  form  a  preconception  of  the  future, 
or,  at  most,  not  more  of  it  than  the  next  immediate  act, 
or  even  recur  to  any  preconception  previously  formed 
of  it ;  we  do  not  have  to  perceive  the  connection  of  the 
immediate  act  contemplated  with  the  end  sought.  We 
may  merely  recollect  that,  on  previous  like  occasions, 
we  did  thus  or  so  with  satisfactory  results ;  and  that, 
after  such  an  act,  such  another  act  immediately  follows. 
We  do  it  by  rote.  Suppose  a  man,  who  is  accustomed 
to  walk  in  a  certain  path  from  one  place  to  another, 
wishes  to  go  to  some  other  place,  requiring  him  to  di- 


118  FEEEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING-. 

verge  from  the  familiar  track.  If,  on  reaching  the 
point  of  divergence,  he  fails  to  look  at  the  portion  of 
his  plan,  which  is  yet  in  the  future,  but,  as  on  former 
occasions,  directs  himself  in  each  successive  act  by  refer 
ence  to  the  preceding  one,  or  by  mere  association  with 
it,  he  will  take  the  old  path,  and  will  not  discover  his 
mistake  until  he  looks  to  the  future  and  refers  to  his 
preconception  of  the  result  intended,  and  of  the  means  of 
attaining  it.  This  habitually  pursuing  an  old  plan  when 
a  new  one  had  been  designed,  is  matter  of  common  .ex 
perience.  As  a  consequence  of  this  working  from  mem 
ory  of  an  old  plan,  instead  of  one  newly  formed  for  the 
occasion,  there  is  in  habitual  action  little,  if  any,  need  of 
deliberation^  or  for  the  exercise  of  the  rational  faculties. 
As,  in  the  case  of  instinctive  action,  there  is  -also  in  the 
habitual,  a  plan  ready  formed  in  the  mind,  and  though 
it  may  be  there,  by  our  own  previous  efforts,  instead 
of  by  intuition,  it  subserves  much  the  same  purpose. 
Perhaps  the  only  essential  difference  is,  that  the  intui 
tive  knowledge  may  embrace  that  of  the  occasions  for 
adopting  the  particular  plan  ;  and  in  adopting  our  own 
previously  formed  plans,  we  have  always  to  determine 
by  an  exercise  of  judgment  the  proper  occasions  for 
their  application.  This,  however,  as  already  suggested, 
may  sometimes  be  necessary  also  in  regard  to  the  appli 
cation  of  a  mode,  or  a  series  of  actions  intuitively  known 
as  the  means  of  reaching  an  end ;  and  in  the  habitual, 
after  we  have  decided  to  adopt  the  mode,  or  series,  we 
,  pursue  it  without  further  deliberation,  or  exercise  of  the 
judgment  in  going  through  the  successive  steps.  Again, 
as  before  observed,  the  occasion  upon  which  to  use  a 
known  plan,  either  intuitive  or  acquired,  may  be  sug 
gested  by  its  mere  association  with  recurring  circum- 


INSTINCT  AND  HABIT.  119 

stances,  and,  if  that  examination  of  our  knowledge, 
which  results  in  a  judgment,  is  an  element  of  associa 
tion,  such  examination,  or  exercise  of  the  rational  facul 
ties  in  comparing  and  judging  is  often  so  slight,  or  so 
instantaneous  as  to  be  almost  unnoticeable.  We  ob 
serve,  then,  how  nearly  habitual  action  brings  us  back 
from  the  rational  to  the  instinctive ;  and  in  this  we  may 
find  the  significance  of  the  common  saying  that  "  habit 
is  second  nature."  The  instinctive  also  resembles  the 
habitual  in  this,  that  it  is  not  essential  in  either  that  we 
should  ever  know,  at  one  time,  any  more  of  the  plan 
than  the  connection  between  the  action  just  done  and 
the  one  next  in  order.  The  bee,  when  it  has  construct 
ed  one  side  and  one  angle  of  its  cell,  need  not  know  that 
it  will  require  five  more  such  sides  and  angles  to  com 
plete  it.  The  most  that  is  essential  to  its  subsequent  ac 
tion  is  the  knowledge  that  the  next  step  is  to  make  an 
other  like  side  and  angle ;  and  so  in  the  habitual,  all 
that  is  requisite  is  the  recollection  of  what  action  comes 
next,  and  then  again  the  next. 

"We  find  another  similarity  in  the  fact,  that,  in  re 
sorting  to  an  habitual  mode,  even  though  originally  ac- 
( quired,  and  especially  if  then  adopted  after  full  deliber 
ation,  the  mind  may  again  use  it,  as  if  it  were  the  only 
one  possible ;  just,  as  in  the  first  instinctive  action,  it 
adopts  the  one  and  only  known  mode,  which  it  has  by 
intuition.  With  these  points  in  common,  the  instinctive 
may  glide  easily  into  the  habitual.  By  repetition  in 
practice,  the  memory  of  the  consecutive  order  of  the  ac 
tions  may  take  the  place  of  the  direct  knowledge  of  that 
order.*  • 

Though  more  unlike,  rational  actions  become  habit- 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXIV. 


120  FREEDOM  OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

ual  by  the  same  process — by  the  repetition,  on  like  oc 
casions,  of  the  series  of  efforts  embracing  the  plan  of  ac 
tion,  till  we  distinctly  remember  the  routine  of  the  suc 
cessive  efforts,  and  can  go  over  them  in  the  same  order, 
without  reference  to  the  end  or  the  reason  of  such  or 
der.  In  the  habitual,  as  already  intimated,  the  mind 
may  determine  each  successive  action,  not  by  its  per 
ception  of  its  connection  with  the  future,  but  by  associa 
tion  with  that  which  is  past ;  and  this  analogy  of  such 
actions  to  the  movement  of  a  material  body  by  a  force 
behind  it,  without  itself  perceiving  its  course  in  the  fu 
ture,  has  probably  favored  the  popular  application  of 
the  term  mechanical  to  habitual  actions,  which  was 
naturally  enough  suggested  by  the  comparatively  small 
amount  of  mental  effort  they  require. 

It  is  obvious  that  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  ac 
tions  of  adults  are  habitual,  and  that  our  rational  ac 
tions,  in  becoming  habitual,  approach  so  nearly  to  in 
stinctive,  is  probably  one  cause  of  that  difficulty  in 
distinguishing  the  instinctive  from  the  rational,  which 
is  so  general ;  a  difficulty  which  may  be  further  in 
creased  by  the  instinctive  also  actually  becoming  habit 
ual,  the  two  thus  blending  together  and  becoming  un-< 
distinguishable  in  one  common  reservoir,  from  which 
the  main  current  of  our  actions  subsequently  flows,  and 
through  which  it  is  often  difficult  to  trace  their  respect 
ive  sources. 

Customary  or  imitative  actions  also  belong  to  this 
group.  When  we  do  anything  merely  because  it  is 
customary,  we  adopt  the  plans  or  modes  of  action 
whioii  we  have  seen  others  adopt,  without  ourselves 
contriving,  and  sometimes  without  even  perceiving  the 
reason  why  others  have  adopted  them.  In  regard  to  in- 


INSTINCT   AND   HABIT.  121 

stinctive,  habitual,  and  customary  actions,  the  question 
may  arise  whether  it  may  or  may  not  be  better  to  class 
those  in  which  we  perceive  the  reason  of  the  plan  at 
the  time  of  action,  with  the  rational  actions.  There  is 
evidently,  in  this,  a  distinction  for  which  philosophical 
accuracy  requires  a  corresponding  difference  in  ex 
pression. 

To  recapitulate ;  mechanical  action,  or  material 
movements  and  changes,  are  either  God's  action,  imme 
diate  or  mediate,  upon  his  own  plan — a  part  of  his 
rational  actions;  or,  as  seems  to  be  conceivable  and 
more  in  conformity  to  the  popular  idea,  the  necessary 
consequences  of  blind  causes,  as  of  matter  in  motion, 
which  can  have  no  plan. 

Instinctive  actions  are  the  efforts  of  a  finite  intelli 
gent  being,  conformed  by  its  intelligence  to  the  plan 
which  God  has  furnished,  or  furnishes  to  it,  ready 
formed. 

Rational  actions  are  the  efforts  of  an  intelligent 
being,  finite  or  infinite,  in  conformity  with  a  plan, 
which  itself  has  contrived,  by  means  .of  those  faculties, 
which  make  a  part  of  the  constitution  of  its  being,  de 
rived  or  underived. 

Customary  or  imitative  action  is  the  action  of  a 
finite  being  in  conformity  to  a  plan  which  it  has  derived 
from  its  observation  of  the  action  of  others. 

Habitual  action  is  the  action  of  a  finite,  intelligent 
being,  in  conformity  to  a  plan  which  it  has  in  its  mind, 
ready  formed,  with  which  practice  has  made  it  so 
familiar,  that  each  successive  step  is  associated  with, 
and  is  suggested  by  those  which  precede  it,  requiring 
no  examination  as  to  its  influence,  or  its  connection 
with  the  desired  end,  or  effect  in  the  future ;  whether 
6 


122  FREEDOM    OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

that  plan  was  originally  instinctive,  rational,  or  cus 
tomary. 

In  regard  to  habit,  I  would  further  remark  that  it 
has,  in  some  respects,  the  same  relation  to  action,  that 
memory  has  to  knowledge.  They  are  both  retaining 
powers.  As  memory  of  the  results  of  former  investiga 
tions,  or  of  former  observation,  obviates  the  necessity 
of  repeated  investigation  or  observation  to  enable  us  to 
know,  so  habit  obviates  the  necessity  of  examining  as 
to  the  probable  result  of  the  different  proposed  acts,  or 
of  repeating  the  experiments  required  in  the  first  action, 
and  which,  with  the  caution  then  requisite,  rendered  it 
slow  and  tedious,  compared  with  the  facility  acquired 
after  practice  has  made  us  familiar  with  the  order  of 
the  successive  efforts,  and  rendered  us  fearless  of  any 
latent  consequences,  the  apprehensions  of  which,  in  the 
first  instance,  would  induce  careful  examination  of  our 
preconceptions  of  the  future  effects.  Habit  seems  to  be 
mainly  dependent  on  memory  and  association.  The  first 
time  certain  circumstances  occur,  if  we  have  not  the 
knowledge  of  the  mode  of  action  intuitively,  we  have 
to  examine,  compare,  judge,  and  perhaps  resort  to  ex 
periments  as  to  how  we  shall  act ;  when  they  recur,  we 
may  adopt  the  former  modes  implicitly,  if  the  result 
was  then  satisfactory,  or  with  such  modifications  as  ex 
perience  may  suggest ;  and  repeat  the  experiments, 
with  variations,  till  we  have  got  what  we  deem  the 
best.  When,  from  the  plan  adopted  on  a  former  occa 
sion,  gratification  has  resulted,  a  recurrence  of  similar 
circumstances  suggests,  by  association,  the  want  of  like 
gratification.  This  want  is  also  intensified,  not  only  by 
the  recollection  of  the  former  pleasure,  but  the  mind, 
being  relieved  from  the  labor  of  a  particular  examina- 


INSTINCT  AND  HABIT.  123 

tion  of  the  means  and  of  devising  a  plan ;  and  also 
from  apprehension  as  to  unseen  consequences,  which 
rendered  circumspection  necessary  in  the  first  instance, 
may  direct  its  attention  to  the  expected  gratification, 
and  be  almost  exclusively  absorbed  by  it.*  In  regard 
to  any  action  requiring  several  successive  efforts,  as,  for 
instance,  walking,  a  man  with  full  strength,  unless 
knowing  by  intuition  not  only  the  mode  of  making  the 
particular  muscular  movements,  but  their  proper  respect 
ive  order  and  force ',  would,  probably,  in  a  first  effort 
to  walk,  have  to  proceed  very  slowly,  giving  a  con 
scious,  attentive,  tentative  effort  to  each  movement, 
and  perhaps  then  not  always  succeed  in  practically 
doing  as  he  desired ;  but,  by  repeated  experiments,  he 
learns  the  proper  order  and  degree  of  the  movements, 
and  by  repetition  becomes  able  to  make  them  without 
any  conscious  thought  as  to  the  order,  degree,  or  result, 
each  effort  suggesting  the  succeeding  one,  as  a  letter  of 
the  alphabet,  after  much  repetition,  suggests  the  one 
which  follows  it.  'If,  by  memory,  we  retained  the 
knowledge  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  and  of  their 
order  of  succession  only  long  enough  for  the  occasion, 
we  should  have  to  relearn,  every  time  we  had  occasion 
for  such  knowledge ;  and  but  for  the  retaining  power 
of  habit,  we  should  have  either  to  study  or  experiment 
in  regard  to  every  particular  act,  not  instinctive,  and  as 
.to  the  order  of  any  instinctive  series  of  actions,  as  often 
as  the  same  might  be  required  to  reach  the  desired  re 
sult.  Habit  is  but  a  substitution  of  the  memory  of  for 
mer  results  of  investigation,  and  experience  for  present? 
investigation  and  trial ;  those  former  results  being  sug 
gested  by  association  with  like  circumstances.  In  other 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXY. 


124:  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

words,  it  is  memory,  aided  by  association,  and  applied 
to  actions,  when  like  occasions  for  them  recur.  In 
cases  to  which  it  is  applicable,  habit  thus  relieves  the 
mind  of  nearly  all  the  mental  labor  requisite  to  action — 
that  of  investigating  the  circumstances  and  forming  its 
creative  preconceptions  in  the  future,  and  thus  facili 
tates  our  advancement  in  action  ;  making  it  easy  for  us 
to  do  that  which  we  are  accustomed  to  do,  whether 
right  or  wrong. 

While  habit  thus  facilitates  effort,  it  also  enables  us 
readily  to  select  from  among  passing  occurrences  those 
which  require  attention  or  effort,  and  to  dismiss  others 
almost  without  notice.  When  we  have  no  special  occa 
sion  to  know  the  hour,  the  striking  of  a  clock,  which  is 
constantly  repeated  within  our  hearing,  makes  so  little 
impression,  that  it  is  not  recollected  a  moment  after 
wards.  We  know  from  repeated  observation  that  we 
need  not  attend  to  it.  It  awakens  no  interest,  no  want, 
in  us.  Ask  a  man  who  has  just  looked  at  his  watch,  for 
the  time,  and,  in  a  majority  of  cases,  he  cannot  tell  you. 
He  habitually  saw  the  time,  as  indicated  on  the  dial 
plate,  and  inferred  that  the  hour  of  his  engagement  had 
not  yet  arrived,  or  found  that  it  suggested  nothing  to 
be  done,  and  immediately  dismissed  the  whole  mat 
ter.  He  can  give  no  account  of  what  passed  in  his 
mind.  Perhaps  a  little  more  of  memory  of  the  pro 
cess  so  instantaneous  would  reveal  to  him  that  he 
merely  saw  that  a  certain  hour  had  not  arrived,  rather 
than  what  the  present  time  was.  The  want  for  which 
he  made  the  effort  to  look  at  his  watch  was  satisfied  by 
the  former,  and  he  had  no  interest  to  know  or  to  retain 
the  latter. 

That  habit  especially  applies  to  those  actions  which 


INSTINCT   AND   HABIT.  125 

we  have  most  frequent  occasion  to  perform,  increases 
the  benefits  we  derive  from  it.  It  seems,  however,  to 
be  frequently  regarded  as  a  vicious  element  of  mind. 
This,  probably,  often  arises  from  only  looking  at  its 
power  to  perpetuate  or  facilitate  actions  which  are 
wrong,  overlooking  its  influence  on  those  which  are 
right,  and  may  be  confirmed  by  the  further  considera 
tion,  that  retaining  the  old  habit  enables  us  to  dispense 
with  new  acquisitions  and  with  new  efforts,  thus  foster 
ing  indolence ;  and  that  whicli  legitimately  furnishes 
the  great  means  of  progress  in  action,  thus  perverted, 
enables  a  man  to  forego  the  efforts,  which  are  the  very 
germs  of  this  progress.  Pie  has  become  familiar  with 
one  course  of  action — habit  has  made  it  easy  to  him  ;  it 
no  longer  requires  the  examination,  the  experimental 
efforts,  the  circumspection,  which  are  necessary  to  learn 
and  apply  new  methods.  He  has  also  learned  the  grati 
fication  arising  from  the  habitual  course,  and  does  not 
know,  and  does  not  seek  to  know,  that  by  pursuing  a 
different  course  he  may  obtain  a  higher,  more  perma 
nent,  or  more  unalloyed  gratification,  or,  at  least,  has 
not  so  brought  the  knowledge  home  to  his  affections, 
and  into  such  practical  form,  as  to  induce  a  want  for 
such  higher  gratification.  Being  slothful,  the  higher 
and  higher  wants,  which  with  efforts  for  progress  are 
continually  evolved  in  the  mind,  are  undeveloped,  and 
remain  in  their  original  chaotic  state,  without  the 
sphere  of  his  efforts,  in  a  region  which  he  has  never  at 
tempted  to  penetrate,  and,  by  the  exercise  of  his  crea 
tive  powers,  to  reduce  to  order. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ILLUSTBATION     FBOM      CHESS. 

As  a  partial  illustration  of  some  of  the  foregoing 
views,  let  us  suppose  two  persons,  A  and  B,  to  be  en 
gaged  in  playing  chess  ;  and  as  there  is  no  conceivable 
necessity  for  supposing  any  other  intelligence  to  do,  or 
to  have  done,  anything  in  relation  to  the  game,  we 
may,  so  far  as  the  players  and  their  efforts  are  con 
cerned,  assume  that  none  others  exist.  The  players 
have  no  intuitions  of  the  game  ;  bu£  the  knowledge  of 
its  laws,  indicating  what  moves  can  and  what  cannot 
be  made,  having  been  taught  them  by  others,  without 
any  contrivance  of  their  own,  is  somewhat  analogous  to 
that  intuitive  knowledge  which  is  the  foundation  of  our 
early  actions ;  and  the  unreflecting  spontaneity  with 
which  a  young  player  avails  himself  of  arl  opportunity 
to  take  a  valuable  piece,  without  reference  to  future 
consequences,  has  some  resemblance  to  instinctive,  un- 
deliberative  action.  The  first  move  to  be  made  by  A 
is,  so  far  as  the  position  of  the  pieces  is  concerned,  to 
be  made  under  precisely  the  same  circumstances  as  has 
been  every  other  first  move,  which  he  has  ever  made, 
and  he  may  now  make  his  habitual  move  without  rein- 
vestigation,  and  each  player  continues  to  do  this  until 
the  combinations  become  such  that  past  experience  can 
no  longer  avail.  Or  either  may  try  an  entirely  new 


ILLUSTRATION    FROM   CHESS.  127 

first  or  subsequent  move,  and  test  its  advantages.  In 
any  case,  however,  both  the  players  soon  come  to  new 
or  unremembered  combinations.  A  has  just  moved, 
and  may  be  supposed  to  be  passively  waiting  the  move 
of  B,  who  is  now  the  only  active  intelligence,  and  is  to 
will  his  next  move  in  view  of  the  new  circumstances 
which  the  last  move  of  A  has  presented,  and  which  cir 
cumstances  cannot  now  be  changed  until  after  himself 
wills  and  makes  his  move.  His  primary  want  is  to 
checkmate  his  opponent ;  but,  in  view  of  the  circum- 
stances,  he  knows  that,  in  conformity  with  the  laws  of 
the  game,  he  cannot  gratify  this  want  by  any  move 
now  possible.  He  then  wants  to  make  the  move  which 
will  most  tend  to  checkmate.  This  secondary  want  in 
duces  him  to  make  an  effort  to  ascertain  what  move 
will  best  fulfil  this  condition.  He  examines,  he  delib 
erates — that  is,  he  makes  an  effort  to  obtain  more 
.knowledge,  with  which  to  direct  his  final  effort,  or 
move ;  and  then,  by  means  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
present  position  of  the  pieces,  and  his  power  of  forming 
an  idea  of  the  future,  including  his  conjectures  of  the 
subsequent  move  of  his  opponent,  he  compares  his  pre 
conceptions  of  the  possible  or  probable  result  of  various 
moves ;  and  having,  by  that  use  of  his  knowledge  which 
results  in  a  judgment,  selected  among  them,  wills,  or 
puts  forth  the  final  effort  in  conformity  to  that  judg 
ment.  He  does  not  fully  examine  all  the  possible  re 
sults  of  every  possible  move.  This  would  make  the 
game  insufferably  tedious,  indeed,  impossible  to  be 
played  in  a  lifetime ;  but  the  time  he  will  give  to  de 
liberating  is  also  a  matter  for  him  to  judge  of,  or  decide 
by  his  knowing  faculty ;  and,  in  fact,-  he  often  moves 
with  a  consciousness  that  his  examination  is  very  im- 


128  FEEEDOM  OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

perfect.  Of  two  or  more  moves,  he  may  not  have  de 
cided  which  is  best ;  but,  the  fact  is,  lie  does  decide  to 
adopt  one,  and  as,  by  the  hypothesis,  there  is  no  other 
existing  intelligent  activity  to  decide  for  him,  he  must, 
in  such  case,  himself  decide  which  to  adopt.  So  far  as 
his  present  volition  and  act  are  concerned,  it  is  the 
same  as  if  he  had  never  before  willed  or  acted.  That 
he  has  contributed,  by  his  previous  moves,  to  make  the 
circumstances  as  they  are,  does  not  now  affect  the  con 
siderations  by  which  his  present  move  is  to  be  deter 
mined.  For  the  purposes  of  this  action,  he  begins  with 
the  circumstances  as  they  now  are,  and  is  precisely  in 
the  same  situation  as  if  he  found  the  game  in  that  con 
dition  and  was  (being  already  possessed  of  the  same 
knowledge  of  the  past  and  present,  and  with  the  same 
power  of  anticipating  the  future)  to  move  for  the  first 
time.  Every  time  he  wills,  or  puts  forth  an  effort, 
making  or  planning  a  move,  is  a  new  and  distinct  exer 
cise  of  his  creative  energy ;  and  the  effect  is  a  new  crea 
tion,  evolved  from  the  new  circumstances,  sometimes 
getting  existence  only  in  the  conception  of  his  own 
mind,  and  sometimes  actualized,  or  made  palpable  to 
others,  in  the  altered  position  of  the  piece  moved. 

We  might  suppose  a  more  complicated  game,  in 
which  several  persons  moved  at  the  same  time  on  one 
side,  each  having  to  take  into  account  not  only  the 
probable  future  moves  of  the  several  opponents,  but, 
also,  the  simultaneous  moves  of  his  several  coadjutors  ; 
and  this  would  more  nearly  resemble  the  complicated 
game  of  real  life.  But  though,  in  real  life, 'many  may 
move  at  once,  yet,  to  each  individual,  certain  circum 
stances  are  presented  for  him  to  act  upon  at  the  mo 
ment  of  willing ;  and  whether,  at  that  moment,  these 


ILLUSTRATION  FEOM  CHESS.  129 

circumstances  are  fixed,  or  are  still  flowing  by  the  in 
fluence  of  some  other  intelligence  or  force,  is  but  a  cir 
cumstance  to  be  taken  into  view  in  willing,  as  also  the 
anticipated  future  action  of  other  intelligences ;  as  the 
future  possible  or  probable  moves  of  one  party  at  chess 
are  taken  into  account  by  the  other  in  determining  his 
own  move.  If  we  look  for  the  cause  of  the  move,  we 
refer  it  immediately  to  the  will  of  the  mover ;  and  if 
we  seek  the  reason  why  he  willed  this  and  not  some 
other  move,  we  may,  in  most  cases,  by  making  such  an 
examination  of  the  circumstances  as  we  suppose  he 
made  prior  to  moving,  form  a  conjecture,  in  some  cases 
amounting  almost  to  certainty,  in  others  only  to  the 
smallest  degree  of  probability ;  while,  in  some  instances, 
we  may  fail  to  discover  a  probable  or  even  a  supposable 
reason.  The  same  thing  occurs  in  real  life,  showing 
that  we  differ  in  our  knowledge,  or  come  to  different 
conclusions  from  the  same  premises.  One  man  may 
better  understand  the  game  of  life,  or  see  farther  or 
more  clearly  into  the  future,  than  another.  Some  can 
successfully  compete  with  several  skilful  chess  players, 
or  can  ably  direct  several  distinct  games  at  once ;  and 
so  some  men  are  a  match  for  many  others  in  some  of 
the  rivalries  of  active  life,  and  accomplish  their  ends  in 
competition  with  numerous  opponents.  In  a  game  of 
diplomacy,  a  Talleyrand  or  Metternich  would  succeed 
against  most  men,  many  men  combined,  or  in  separate 
games  with  each  at  the  same  time.  And  a  Being  of  in 
finite  power  and  wisdom  would  accomplish  His  pur 
poses,  though  opposed  by  any  number  of  finite  intelli 
gences,  all  exerting  their  finite  power  as  freely  as  He 
His  infinite. 

To  one  uninstructed,  the  chess  board  with  a  game 


130  FREEDOM  OF   MIND   IN  WILLING. 

partly  played  out,  would  appear  a  mere  confusion, 
without  any  more  arrangement  than  a  child  discovers 
in  the  position  of  the  stars  ;  and  the  moves  would  seem 
to  him  as  arbitrary  and  erratic  as  the  motions  of  planets 
and  comets  did  to  the  early  pastoral  astronomers ;  but 
on  ascertaining  and  applying  the  laws  of  the  game,  the 
element  of  design  immediately  appears,  and  an  harmo 
nious  system  is  evolved  from  the  apparent  chaos.  It 
is  a  creation — a  very  tiny  creation — in  which  the  finite 
intelligence  has  as  freely  exerted  its  creative  power  in 
devising  and  assigning  the  laws  of  the  movements  of 
the  game,  and  in  moving  the  pieces  in  conformity  to 
those  laws,  as  the  Supreme  Intelligence  exerts  its  in 
finite  power  in  making  laws  and  moving  the  universe 
in  conformity  with  them.  The  inventor  of  the  game 
has,  in  fact,  created  another  sphere  for  the  exercise  of 
human  activity ;  like  the  great  sphere  of  God's  crea 
tion,  conditioned  by  certain  laws,  which,  for  the  pur 
poses  of  the  game,  must  be  regarded  as  inviolable  as  if 
decreed  by  infinite  wisdom,  and  enforced  by  infinite 
power.  It  is  a  sphere  in  which  many  of  the  same  pro 
cesses  of  mind,  which  are  common  in  active  life,  are 
brought  into  play,  and  in  which  are  formed  habits  of 
effort,  of  deliberation,  or  the  investigation  of  intricate 
combinations,  preparatory  to  action  ;  and  perseverance 
in  effort  under  circumstances  apparently  the  most  hope 
less  ;  and  in  which  many  of  the  emotions  of  real  life,  as 
hope,  fear,  despondency,  the  feeling  of  disappointment, 
the  sense  of  superiority,  the  humiliation  of  defeat,  the 
pride  of  victory,  also  have  place.* 

If  we  suppose  only  one  intelligent  being  to  be  en 
gaged  in  the  game,  with  an  automaton  chess  player  so 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXYI. 


ILLUSTRATION   FEOM  CHESS.  131 

contrived  that  the  automatic  moves  will  be  in  conform 
ity  with  the  laws  of  the  game,  we  shall  "have  a  case 
analogous  to  that  of  the  finite  intelligence  acting  with 
reference  to  the  anticipated  action  of  the  infinite,  uni 
formly  conforming  to  certain  laws,  the  consequences  of 
which  can  be  only  partially  known,  or  vaguely  antici 
pated  by  the  finite.  But  for  this  uniformity  in  the  Di 
vine  action,  our  position,  in  the  efforts  of  life,  would  be 
that  of  a  person  who  should  attempt  to  play  chess  with 
one  who  was  wholly  regardless  of  the  laws  of  the  game. 
In  such  case,  all  effort  in  investigating,  planning,  de 
signing,  and  moving  would  be  useless  ;  the  game  would 
be  impossible.  And  so  in  the  affairs  of  real  life ;  but 
for  the  recognized  uniformity  in  the  action  of  the  Su 
preme  Intelligence,  there  would  be  no  reason  or  ground 
for  the  efforts  of  finite  free  agents. 

In  chess  it  often  happens  that,  in  conformity  with 
the  rules,  only  one  move  is  possible ;  for  instance,  when 
the  king  must  be  put  out  of  check,  and  there  is  only 
one  move  by  which  it  can  be  done.  This  resembles 
some  cases  of  supposed  necessity  in  the  voluntary  efforts 
of  real  life.  By  the  laws  of  the  game,  the  player  is  con 
fined  to  one  move,  and  has  no  liberty  to  will  any  other. 
But  there  is  no  conceivable  case  in  which  the  mind  is, 
or  can  be,  compelled  to  will  at  all,  and  this  apparent 
want  of  liberty  or  analogy  to  it,  in  chess,  is  merely  an 
inability  in  the  agent  to  conform  to  laws  which  he  has 
voluntarily  adopted  for  his  own  government,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  not  to  conform  to  them ;  which,  so  far 
from  detracting  from  a  man's  freedom  in  determining 
his  own  volitions,  is  essential  to  it ;  for  if,  at  the  same 
moment  that  he  either  decided  or  willed  to  conform,  he 
could  also  decide,  or  will,  not  to  conform,  and  the  two 


132  FREEDOM  OF  MIND  IN  WILING. 

mental  efforts  were  to  go  forth  simultaneously,  his 
power  would  be  completely  neutralized.  It  is  a  mere 
inability  to  work  contradictions,  and  cannot  even  be  re 
garded  as  a  deficiency  of  power,  for  no  increase  of  pow 
er  tends  to  give  such  ability.  In  the  case  supposed,  the 
effort  of  the  player  to  make  a  particular  move  is  made 
to  depend  on  his  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  the  game, 
and  any  other  knowledge  which  may  lead  him  to  want 
to  conform  to  them ;  and  such  government  of  himself 
to  gratify  this  want,  by  the  aid  of  any  knowledge  he 
may  have,  does  not  make  a  case  varying  from  those 
which  we  have  before  considered.  The  laws  of  the 
game  are  certainly  not  more  obligatory  upon  him  than 
the  just  demands  of  his  country,  or  the  laws  of  God,  or 
his  own  convictions  of  right.  In  all  such  cases,  the  ex 
istence  of  such  obligation,  or  of  any  conclusions,  or  in 
ferences  from  them,  are  but  circumstances  to  be  consid 
ered  by  the  mind  in  determining  its  efforts  ;  but  do  not 
affect  its  freedom  in  making  the  efforts,  the  making,  or 
not  making  of  which  still  depends  on  itself. 

The  memory  of  the  conclusions  of  former  examina 
tions  of  the  circumstances,  of  which  these  laws  form  a 
portion,  may  enable  a  man  to  dispense  with  present  ex 
amination,  and  act  from  habit.  In  chess,  each  player 
tacitly  pledges  himself  to  conform  to  the  laws  of  the 
game  ;  and  a  man,  on  full  deliberation,  may  resolve  al 
ways  to  conform  his  efforts  to  the  laws  of  God,  and,  in 
both  cases,  his  compliance  may  become  habitual,  so 
that  he  ceases  to  deliberate,  or  to  form  new  plans  of  ac 
tion,  spontaneously  adopting  the  old ;  but  this  substitu 
tion  of  the  result  of  a  former  for  a  present  examination, 
does  not  conflict  with  freedom,  but  is  itself  an  act  of 
freedom.  If  the  mind's  predetermination  to  be  gov- 


ILLUSTRATION   FKOM   CHESS.  133 

erned  by  certain  laws,  or  in  certain  circumstances  to 
act  in  certain  uniform  modes,  could  be  regarded  as  a 
voluntary  curtailment  of  its  liberty,  that  which  was  thus 
abandoned  could  be  voluntarily  resumed,  and  the  mind, 
by  its  own  act,  regain  its  entire  freedom ;  bat  the  free 
dom  of  the  mind  is  as  apparent  in  the  voluntary  curtail 
ment,  as  in  the  reextension  of  its  sphere  of  effort.  But, 
in  adopting  such  laws  or  modes,  the  mind  does  not,  by 
its  free  effort,  curtail  its  freedom,  but  uses  its  knowl 
edge  of  general  rules  to  lessen  the  deliberation  required 
in  each  particular  case  as  it  occurs,  or  to  direct  its 
efforts  in  cases  for  which  its  knowledge,  if  it  did  not 
embrace  these  laws,  or  general  rules,  would  be  wholly 
inadequate.  That  God  wills  to  conform  His  action  to 
certain  laws  or  uniform  modes,  does  not  impair  His 
freedom. 

In  regard  to  the  influence  of  law  on  individual  ac 
tion  or  effort,  we  would  remark  generally,  that  matter 
cannot  know  the  law,  and,  therefore,  cannot  govern  it 
self  by  law;  that  an  intelligent  being,  knowing  the 
law,  and  not  willing  to  be  governed  by  it  does  not  so 
govern  himself;  but  that,  in  both  instances,  the. move 
ments  or  actions  of  the  matter,  or  of  such  non-willing 
being,  if  made  to  conform  to  the  law,  must  be  so  con 
formed  by  some  external  power,  to  which  the  law  is  a 
rule  of  action.  If  the  intelligence  making  or  promul 
gating  the  law  enforces  it  by  an  exercise  of  its  own 
power,  then  the  law  is  only  a  law  to  itself,  and  the  will 
of  a  controlled  being  has  no  part  in  it,  and  has  no  more 
to  do  with  the  result  of  a  law  thus  enforced,  than  a 
heavy  stone  has  to  do  with  the  effects  of  gravitation. 
A  law  made  by  one  being  for  the  government  of  an 
other,  and  not  enforced  by  direct  application  of  power, 


134:  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

must  depend  for  its  efficiency  upon  the  will  of  that 
other.  He  may  will  to  obey  it,  because,  having  exam 
ined  the  particular  law,  he  deems  it  good  in*  itself ;  or 
because  it  is  dictated  by  a  being  in  whose  wisdom  and 
beneficence  he  confides.  In  the  latter  case  he  adopts 
the  rule,  because  he  perceives  that  it  is  a  particular  case 
of  a  more  general  rule,  on  which  he  has  before  decided. 
In  all  cases  of  government  by  law,  we  are  influ 
enced,  not  by  the  existence  of  the  law,  but  by  our  pre 
conceptions  of  the  effects  of  breaking  the  law,  or  of  con 
forming  to  it.  It  may  be  that  we  perceive  it  will 
grieve  or  offend  one  whom  we  love  ;  or  it  may  be  the 
consideration  of  more  direct  personal  consequences,  dis 
tinctly  and  directly  apprehended,  or  inferred  from  the 
attributes  of  the  law-maker.  The  knowledge  of  the  law 
is  always  such  an  addition  to  our  knowledge  as  enables 
us  better  to  preconceive  the  future,  and  especially  in 
regard  to  what  others,  in  certain  contingencies,  will  do ; 
but,  in  the  mind's  application  of  this  knowledge,  to  de 
termine  its  own  efforts,  there  is  nothing  conflicting  with 
its  freedom  in  willing.  If  it  wills  in  conformity  to  the 
law,  it  is  just  as  free  as  if  it  wills  in  opposition  to  it. 
The  word  law,  in  such  connection,  seems  to  be  used  in 
two  distinct  senses  ;  the  one  indicating  a  rule  by  which 
causes  are  governed  in  producing  effects  ;  the  other  ex 
pressing  a  mere  uniformity  of  such  effects.  But  the 
observation  of  this  uniformity  of  effects  is  perhaps  but 
a  mode  in  which  we  learn  the  law  of  the  cause  which 
produces  them  ;  as,  for  instance,  by  our  observation  of 
the  changes  in  the  material  universe,  we  come  to  know 
the  laws  which  God  has  adopted  for  His  own  govern 
ment  in  producing  these  changes,  and  the  two  senses 
of  the  term  become  blended  in  oneu  But  be  this  as  it 


ILLUSTRATION   FKOM   CHESS.  135 

may,  the  knowledge  of  such,  laws,  whether  they  are  the 
mere  uniformity  of  the  effects,  or  those  invariable  rules 
or  modes  which  an  intelligent  cause  adopts  in  produc 
ing  them,  enables  us  better  to  preconceive  the  effects 
of  our  efforts,  and,  of  course,  to  determine  them  more 
wisely ;  or,  at  least,  more  certainly  to  produce  the  effect 
intended. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

OF  WANT  AND  EFFOET  IN  VABIOUS   ORDERS   OF  INTELLIGENCE. 

FKOM  the  foregoing  views  it  follows  that  want,  often 
regarded  as  a  weakness,  or  defect,  is  really  requisite  to 
all  but  the  lowest  forms  of  animated  existence.  It  is 
necessary  to  all  intelligent  activity,  and  hence,  essential 
to  all  the  enjoyment  which  arises  from  the  exercise  of 
our  faculties  and  from  that  conscious  progress,  or  that 
satisfaction  in  the  performance  of  duty,  which  attends 
our  proper  efforts.  It  is  necessary  to  elevate  us  above 
the  condition  of  mere  sensitive  and  sensuous  being ; 
and,  as  no  intelligent  being  will  make  effort  to  do  what 
he  does  not  want  to  do,  it  is  thus  necessary,  with  a  meta 
physical  necessity,  which  even  Omnipotence  could  not 
obviate. 

If  these  views  are  well  founded,  God  Himself  can 
not  be  active,  or  make  any  progress,  or  produce  change 
in  anything  except  by  being  the  subject  of  want ;  and, 
in  every  order  of  intelligent  being,  to  want  is  as  essen 
tial  to  the  exercise  of  a  free  creative  energy,  as  to  'know. 

This  imputation  of  want  to  the  Supreme  Being,  to 
some  may  seem  irreverent,  and  especially  to  those  who 
habitually  regard  it  as  an  imperfection.  Let  such  con 
sider  that  we  know  God  only  by  the  attributes  which 
He  manifests  in  action,  or  by  the  effects  of  His  action ; 


OF   WANT  AND   EFFORT.  137 

that  we  cannot  conceive  of  Him  as  destitute  of  quali 
ties  ;  and  that  the  simplest  and  most  evident  affirma 
tion  which  we  can  make,  touching  the  exercise  of  His 
active  power,  is  that  He  doeth  that  which  He  wants 
to  do. 

Nothing,  by  the  mere  fact  of  existence,  can  be  a 
cause  of  any  effect  after  such  existence  began ;  for  all 
the  effects  of  which  its  mere  existence  is  the  cause 
would  take  place  the  instant  it  came  into  existence, 
and  all  its  causative  power  would  then  be  exhausted 
and  cease.  It  could  produce  no  further  changes  even 
in  itself;  and  hence,  a  sole  first  cause,  without  any 
want  to  excite  it  to  effort,  would  immediately  on  com 
ing  into  existence,  become  inert.  Such  existence,  then, 
would  not  act  on  anything,  but  would  become  mere 
material  to  be  acted  upon. 

It  is  only  by  the  faculty  of  effort  that  intelligence 
rises  above  this  condition  ;  and  this  faculty,  to  be  avail 
able  for  such  elevation  to  us,  without  direct,  extrinsic 
aid,  must  either  be  continuous,  or  we  must  have  a  re 
taining,  internal  power,  with  some  adaptation  to  put 
this  retained  power  in  action.  In  mind,  one  or  the 
other  of  the  required  conditions  is  fulfilled  by  the  con 
stant,  or  by  the  recurring  influences  of  want,  which  is 
the  only  mode  known  to  us,  and  perhaps  the  only  one 
which  is  conceivable,  for  exciting  the  voluntary  action 
of  an  intelligent  being,  and  moving  it  from  a  quiescent 
state.  If  we  ever  become  quiescent,  we  cease  to  be 
cause,  and  this  want  must  then  become  manifest  by 
some  change  effected  by  some  active  cause  without  us, 
the  effect  of  which,  from  the  constitution  of  our  being, 
we  may  recognize  without  effort  of  our  own  ;  and  the 
fact  is,  we  cannot  always  prevent  such  cognition.  If 


138  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

our  mental  activity  ever  entirely  ceases,  it  must  then 
be  as  if  we  had  no  mind,  and  we  must  be  re-minded 
before  we  can  again  become  an  active  cause ;  and  this, 
as  before  suggested,  may  be  done  by  want  in  us,  pro 
duced  by  causes  to  the  action  of  which  our  own  efforts 
are  not  essential. 

If  matter  in  motion  is  cause,  its  power,  while  it  has 
any,  is  continuous  and  ready  to  be  exerted  whenever 
the  occasion  for  it  occurs.  Being  unintelligent,  no  ap 
plication  of  self-moving  power  to  it  is  possible  ;  having 
no  mind,  it  cannot  be  reminded. 

It  must  be  true  of  every  intelligence,  of  whatever 
order,  that  if  its  activity  entirely  ceases,  it  cannot,  of 
itself,  put  itself  in  action,  till  some  extrinsic  activity  t 
has,  in  some  way,  acted  upon  it ;  and  the  only  condi 
tion  upon  which  a  sole  First  Cause  could  entirely  sus 
pend  activity,  without  annihilation,  would  be  by  its 
first  creating  other  cause,  which  would  continue  to  be 
active  independently  of  the  creative  cause,  and  which, 
by  producing  some  subsequent  change,  would  react 
upon  and  arouse  the  now  dormant  cause  which  by 
previous  activity  created  it.  There  is,  however,  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  supreme  First  Cause  ever 
becomes  quiescent ;  and  it  is  even  doubtful  whether  the 
finite  mind  ever  does.  It  is  only  certain  that  we  do 
not  always  remember  in  what  we  were  active,  or  that 
we  were  active  in  any  wise. 

ISTo  intelligent  being  can  do  anything  unless  it  makes 
effort  to  do  something.  It  may  try  to  do  one  thing  and 
really  do  something  else.  A  man  may  attempt  to  take 
a  flower ;  and,  for  that  purpose,  by  the  requisite  voli 
tion  move  the  hand,  but,  instead  of  reaching  the  flower, 
may  overturn  a  vase,  which  he  did  not  observe.  His 


OF  WANT  AND   EFFORT.  139 

plan  did  not  embrace  all  the  essential  facts,  or  circum 
stances  ;  his  knowledge,  at  least  as  applied,  was  defect 
ive,  and  the  effect  did  not  conform  to  the  preconception. 
Still,  but  for  the  effort"  to  reach  the  flower,  he  would 
not  have  overturned  the  vase.  If  his  power  does  it  and 
yet  he  does  not  exert  his  own  power,  the  power  must 
exert  itself,  or  be  exerted  by  something  without  him 
and  not  of  him  ;  and,  in  either  case,  it  is  not  his  power, 
and  he  has  no  agency  either  in  putting  forth  the  power, 
or  in  producing  the  effect.  He  does  not  even  make 
the  signal  for  some  other  cause  to  put  the  power  which 
produces  the  effect  into  action.  If,  then,  the  power  of 
an  intelligent  being  is  put  forth  at  all,  it  must  be  by 
the  being  to  which  such  power  pertains ;  and  the  con 
dition  which  makes  the  difference  between  the  non- 
exercise  and  the  exercise  of  its  power  is  that  of  effort ; 
and  hence,  its  effort  is  necessary  to  its  doing  or  being 
the  cause  of  anything,  even  of  that  which  it  does  not 
intend  to  do.  But,  when  an  intelligent  being  makes 
an  effort  to  do  something,  it  is  with  an  intent  and  design 
to  do  it ;  and  it  will  not  try,  endeavor,  make  effort  to  do 
anything  which  it  does  not  want  to  do.  So  that,  the 
want  to  do  something  is  essential  to  its  doing  anything, 
even  that  which  it  does  not  want  to  do. 

But,  though  the  want  rouses  the  mind  to  effort,  it 
does  not  make  or  direct  the  effort.  The  intelligent 
agent  that  perceives  the  relation  of  the  anticipated 
sequences  of  the  effort  to  the  want,  must  do  this ; 
though,  without  the  want,  these  sequences  would  not 
be  sought.  If  Napoleon,  on  the  morning  of  the  battle 
of  Austerlitz,  had  not  been  aroused  from  his  slumber, 
he  would  not  then  have  fought  that  battle ;  but  the 
page,  the  drum-beat,  the  cannon's  roar,  or  the  want  of 


14:0  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN    WILLING. 

food,  of  activity,  or  of  glory,  which  aroused  him,  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  direction  or  order  of  the  battle. 
So  the  want  arouses  the  mind  to  effort,  but  does  not, 
and,  being  unintelligent,  ccmnot  direct,  or  even  indicate, 
what  effort.  This  must  be  determined  by  the  mind, 
which  uses  its  knowledge,  intuitive  or  acquired,  for  that 
purpose.* 

But,  admitting  that  want  is  in  all  cases  a  necessary 
prerequisite  to;  effort,  some  may  suppose  that  effort  is 
a  condition  of  cause  only  in  a  finite  being ;  and  that 
infinite  power  accomplishes  its  ends  without  effort. 
Such,  however,  do  not  imagine  that  He  produces  effects 
or  changes  without  an  act  of  His  will ;  and,  if  our  defi 
nition  ;of  will  is  correct,  this  is  an  effort.  To  suppose 
any  intelligence  to  become  the  cause  of  any  '  change 
without  som^  action  of  its  own,  is  to  suppose  intelli 
gence  to  be  cause  and  a  necessary  cause,  merely  in 
virtue  of  its  existence.  But  all  the  effects  of  such  a 
cause  must  be  simultaneous  with  its  existence,  and  its 
causative  power  must  cease  at  the  moment  of  its  birth. 
Now,  at  any  given  moment  of  time,  all  the  causes 
which  can  influence  the  immediate  succession  of  events 
must  exist ;  and,  if  the  effects  of  all  these  causes  are 
necessary  consequences  of  their  existence,  then  these 
effects  must  all  be  coexistent  with  such  existence ;  and, 
even  if  we  suppose  one  or  more  of  these  effects  to  be 
the  creation  of  a  new  cause,  if  its  effects,  too,  are  neces 
sary  consequences  of  its  existence,  they,  also,  would  be 
coexistent  with  its  creation  ;  and  the  causative  power  of 
the  first  cause,  with  that  of  all  subsequent  created  causes, 
would  be  exhausted  at  the  same  instant  and  no  effects 
could  be  produced  in  the  future.  Hence  the  necessity 
*See  Appendix,  Note  XXYH. 


OF  WANT  AND  EFFORT.  141 

of  some  cause,  the  effects  of  which  do  not,  of  necessity, 
result  from  its  existence,  but  which  retains  a  power  of 
producing  change  that  it  does  not,  of  necessity,  exert  at 
the  instant — which  is  not  cause  merely  in  virtue  of 
its  existence. 

Matter,  retaining,  or  extending  its  power  in  time 
by  means  of  motion ;  and  intelligence,  with  power 
which  it  puts  in  action  when  it  perceives  a  reason,  or 
has  a  want ;  are  the  only  such  conceivable  causes.  Of 
these,  we  have  already  shown  that  intelligence,  in  its 
powers  of  effort  and  of  preconception,  has  a  special 
adaptation  to  future  effects  ;  and  that  matter  in  motion 
can  now  be,  at  most,  only  its  instrument  in  producing 
these  effects. 

That  God,  with  His  infinite  attributes,  exists  cannot, 
as  already  shown,  of  itself,  be  a  cause  of  any  changes 
subsequent  to  the  commencement  of  such  existence ; 
and  hence,  if  such  existence  embraces  a  past  eternity, 
His  mere  existence  cannot,  of  itself,  be,  or  ever  have 
been,  the  cause  of  anything  which  has  had  a  beginning. 

If  the  power  exerts  itself  without  any  effort  of 
the  being  of  which  it  is  an  attribute,  then  that  being 
has  no  more  agency  in  producing  the  effect,  than  if  it 
took  place  without  any  exercise  of  its  power  whatever. 
There  must  be  a  distinction  between  that  condition 
of  any  being,  finite  or  infinite,  in  which  it  actively 
produces,  or  endeavors  to  produce  change ;  and  that 
condition  of  repose,  in  which,  satisfied  with  things  as 
they  are,  or  as  it  perceives  they  will  be,  by  the  agency 
of  other  causes,  it  remains  inactive  and  has  no  agency 
in  producing  change.  The  former  must  be  a  condition 
of  effort.  If,  in  the  Supreme  Being,  there  is  no  such 
distinction,  then  the  effects  must  be  independent  of  His 


142  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

action  and  are  not  caused  by  Him,  for  they  come  to 
pass  as  well  without  as  with  His  action.  Hence,  what 
ever  has  its  origin  in  His  agency  must  require  His 
effort. 

Much  of  the  reasoning  which  I  have  just  before  this 
applied  to  show  the  necessity  of  effort  to  the  producing 
of  any  effect  by  a  finite  being,  as  man,  is  applicable  to 
any  order  of  intelligent  being.  The  Infinite,  however, 
would  never,  by  its  effort,  produce  effects  counter  to  its 
intention  ;  although,  through  self-active  free  agents  of 
its  own  creation,  it  mig"y;  be  the  remote  cause,  or  rather 
the  cause  of  the  cause,  of  what  it  did  not  decree,  or  even 
foreknow. 

The  idea  that  Omnipotence  may  be  creative  with 
out  effort  is,  perhaps,  induced  by  observing  that  with 
every  increase  of  our  own  power  we  accomplish  any 
given  work  with  less  effort ;  and  it  seems  to  be  a  mathe 
matical  deduction,  that  when  the  power  becomes  infi 
nite,  the  effort  must  become  nothing.  But  if  the  mag 
nitude  of  the  effect,  or  the  power  required  to  produce 
it,  keeps  pace  with  the  magnitude  of  the  power  appli 
cable  to  its  production,  no  such  consequence  is  deduci- 
ble  from  increase  of  power.  We  look  upon  Newton 
and  Napoleon,  each  in  their  respective  spheres  of  action, 
as  having  had  more  power  in  themselves  than  most 
men  ;  but  no  one  supposes  they  made  less  effort.  On 
the  contrary,  we  are  apt  to  consider  the  efforts  of  such 
men  as  commensurate  with  the  effects  of  the  exercise 
of  their  powers.  So,  also,  if  the  works  of  a  being  of 
infinite  power  are  infinite,  there  is  at  least  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  His  efforts  are  not  as  great  as  those  of 
a  being  of  finite  power  producing  finite  effects.  Even 
Omnipotence  has  its  bound  in  the  absolutely  impossible ; 


OF  WANT   AND  EFFOET.  143 

and  there  may  be  effects,  just  within  the  verge  of  possi 
bility,  approaching  so  near  the  impossible  as  to  task 
even  infinite  power  to '  accomplish  them.  There  is, 
however,  in  the  case  supposed,  no  power  at  all  without 
the  effort.  If  we  should  speak  of  a  dormant  power,  we 
could  only  mean,  not  that  there  is  now  power,  but  that 
there  would  be  power  if  exerted  ;  i.  0.,  in  a  self-active 
being,  with  effort  there  would  be  power ;  and  attribut 
ing  Omnipotence  to  any  being  could  only  mean  that 
the  efforts  of  feuch  a  being  may  be  all-powerful. 

Effort,  then,  to  which  want  and  knowledge  are  pre 
requisites,  is  an  essential  element  of  a  creative  being ; 
and  He  who  governs  and  controls  all  the  "  vast,  stu 
pendous  scheme  of  things,"  and  reconciles  the  various 
and  conflicting  efforts  of  numberless  free  agents  in  har 
monious  results,  cannot  be  an  inert  being,  passively 
looking  upon  the  gradual  development  of  His  designs, 
but  must  put  forth  an  active  energy,  must  make  effort, 
— must  will  these  results. 

"We  have  already  remarked  that  want  involves  the 
idea,  or  knowledge  of  future  change,  though  not  of  the 
means  of  producing  change.  Want,  then,  which,  in  the 
system  we  are  asserting,  lies  at  the  foundation  as  a  pre 
requisite  of  effort  or  will,  is  also  the  first  incipient, 
chaotic,  but  still  inchoate  stage  of  those  preconceptions 
of  the  future  by  which  the  mind  eventually  determines 
these  efforts ;  and  the  want  thus  has  with  it  the  germ 
of  the  element  of  its  own  gratification.  In  this  we  may 
recognize  something  of  that  harmony,  or  unity  which 
usually  pertains  only  to  truth  and  which  ever  marks 
the  designs  of  Infinite  Wisdom. 

But,  for  the  gratification  of  the  want,  the  mere 
knowledge  that  change  is  -necessary  is  not  sufficient. 
We  must  know  what  change ;  and,  however  small  and 


144:  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

simple  the  want,  or  however  easy  and  obvious  the 
means,  a  creative  preconception  of  them  is  required.  I 
am  hungry,  and  seek  to  gratify  the  want  for  food.  I 
see  bread  before  me,  and  know  that,  by  various  move 
ments  of  my  hand,  mouth,  tongue,  &c.  &c.  in  a  certain 
consecutive  order,  and  only  in  that  order ,  the  want  may 
be  gratified.  I  may  want  a  house  to  give  me  shelter,  and 
for  this  a  more  complicated  creation  must  be  designed 
and  a  more  extended  creative  power  must  be  put  forth, 
and  with  the  same  regard  to  the  order  of  the  efforts,  to 
actualize  the  creative  conception.  Still,  the  mind  could 
design  or  form,  such  creation  within  itself,  and  will,  or 
make  effort,  to  actualize  it  without  itself,  if  there  were 
no  other  intelligence  or  power  in  existence,  or  if  all 
other  existence  were  entirely  passive ;  and  hence,  feel 
ing  the  want  and  having  the  knowledge  required  to  de 
termine  the  mode  of  gratifying  it,  could  by  its  own  in 
herent  powers,  unaided  and  unrestrained  by  any  other 
power,  determine,  or  put  forth  a  corresponding  volition, 
could  will  the  creation  it  has  conceived,  and,  if  there  is 
a  direct  connection  between  its  volitions  and  their 
sequences,  the  mind  can  thus  actualize  its  conceptions 
in  a  real  external  creation.  ISTor,  so  far  as  relates  to 
the  act  of  will  itself,  is  the  mode  of  that  connection  im 
portant.  If  the  mind  only  knows  that  the  consequences 
will,  or  may  follow  its  volitions,  this  knowledge  is  a 
sufficient  basis  for  its  own  effort ;  for  an  effort  directed 
by  its  use  of  its  own  knowledge  is  self-directed  and 
therefore  free.  Whether  there  is  any  direct  connection 
between  volition  and  its  final  sequences,  is  a  question 
which  we  have  already  considered,  though  more  espe 
cially  in  relation  to  external  phenomena.  The  same 
question  arises  in  regard  to  internal  changes,  and  this 
will  be  considered  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

OF    EFFOBT    FOB,    INTERNAL    CHANGE. 

IN  regard  to  the  relation  of  effort  to  internal 
changes  ;  as,  can  we  of  ourselves  put  our  internal  pow 
ers  in  action  ?  or,  can  we  repent  of  evil  and  change  our 
affections  and  dispositions  solely  by  our  own  efforts  ? 
we  will  first  remark  that,  though  we  may  very  reason 
ably  suppose  that  our  own  mental  efforts  are  more 
closely  connected  with  mental  than  with  external  ma 
terial  changes,  still,  as  it  appears  not  improbable  that 
our  efforts  are  made  effective  in  the  external  by  the 
intermediate  agency  of  the  Omnipresent  Intelligence, 
so,  in  like  manner,  it  may  be  that  the  Divine  influence,  is 
necessary  to  give  efficacy  to  our  efforts  for  internal 
change.  The  question  here  raised  is  whether  the  se 
quences  of  volition  are  the  immediate  effects  of  our 
effort  to  produce  them,  or  if  there  is  some  intervening 
power  or  cause,  to  the  action  of  which  our  own  efforts 
are  either  necessary,  or  uniform  antecedents.  In  both 
cases,  however,  the  important  fact  that  our  efforts  are 
necessary  antecedents  or  conditions  precedent  to  the 
changes  is  known,  and  furnishes  a  good  foundation  for 
effort,  let  the  subsequent  effects  be  brought  about  as 
they  may.  If  the  effort  is  essential  to  a  desirable  result, 


146  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

the  reason  for  the  effort  is  the  same,  whether  the  result 
be  proximate  or  remote.  Though  this  is  all  that  is 
strictly  within  the  scope  of  our  present  inquiry,  yet,  as 
germane  to  the  subject,  we  may  be  permitted  to  re 
mark,  that  the  action  of  those  internal  faculties  by 
which  we  do  follows  our  efforts  to  use  them  to  increase 
our  knowledge,  or  to  effect  other  internal  change,  as 
uniformly  as  the  bodily  movements  follow  our  efforts  to 
produce  external  change ;  the  connection  between  the 
effort  and  the  sequence  of  it  is  in  both  cases  equally 
uniform  and  equally  inscrutable.  External  circum 
stances  may  affect  us  both  internally  and  externally, 
may  prdduce  sensation  and  emotion ;  and  may,  also, 
move  our  bodies  without  our  volition  and  even  against 
it. 

We  cannot  directly  will  a  change  in  our  mental 
affections  any  more  than  we  can  directly  will  what  are 
termed  bodily  sensations.  "We  cannot  directly  will  the 
emotions  of  hope,  or  fear,  or  to  be  pure  and  noble,  or 
even  to  want  to  become  pure  and  noble,  any  more  than 
we  can  directly  will  to  be  hungry,  or  to  want  to  be 
hungry.  If  we  want  to  take  food  we  are  already  hun 
gry,  and  if  we  want  to  perform  pure  and  noble  actions 
and  to  avoid  the  impure  and  ignoble,  while  this  want, 
or  disposition  prevails,  we  are  already  pure  and  noble. 
If  we  want  to  be  hungry,  i.  e.  want  to  want  food,  and 
know  that  by  exercise,  or  by  the  use  of  certain  stimulants, 
or  by  other  means  we  may  become  hungry,  we  may  by 
effort  induce  this,  in  such  case,  a  cultivated  want ;  and 
if  we  want  to  want  to  be  pure  and  noble  and  know  the 
means,  we  may,  in  like  manner,  by  effort  gratify  the  ex 
citing  want,  and  induce  the  want,  which  in  such  case 
is  a  cultivated  want,  to  become  pure  and  noble. 


OF  EFFORT  FOE   INTEENAL   CHANGE.  147 

If,  from  seeing  the  pleasure  which  admiring  a  beau 
tiful  flower  affords  to  others,  or  from  any  other  cause, 
we  want  to  admire  it,  we  would  readily  perceive  that 
some  additional  knowledge  is  essential  to  that  end  ;  and 
that  the  first  step  is  to  find,  by  examination,  what  in  it 
is  admirable.  To  examine,  then,  becomes  a  secondary 
want,  and  we  will  to  examine.  The  result  of  this  ex 
amination  may  be,  that  its  before  unknown  beauties 
excite  our  admiration  and  make  it,  or  the  gazing  upon 
it,  an  object  of  want ;  so  we  may  also  will  to  examine 
what  is  pure  and  noble  till  its  developed  loveliness  ex 
cites  in  us,  or  increases,  the  want  to  be  pure  and  noble, 
and  induces  a  corresponding  aversion  to  what  is  gross 
and  base. 

It  may  be  that  increasing  our  knowledge  of  the 
flower  will  have  an  opposite  effect,  and  produce  disgust, 
or  confirm  our  indifference.  We  cannot,  by  will,  de 
termine  what  the  knowledge,  or  the  effect  of  the  knowl 
edge  on  us  will  be ;  but  still,  as  we  cannot  by  effort 
directly  discard,  or  lessen,  the  knowledge  we  already 
have,  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  by  effort  change 
our  present  intelligential  relations  to  the  flower  is  to 
increase  our  knowledge ;  and  hence,  herein  lies  our 
only  chance  and  hope  to  come  to  admire  it.*  If  there 
is  anything  really  admirable,  or  lovely  in  a  flower,  or 
in  a  moral  emotion  or  sentiment,  examination  may  re 
veal  it,  and  our  admiration  follow  the  discovery.  If 
holiness  were  something  which  it  were  well  for  us  to 
want  and  to  have,  and  yet  repulsive  in  its  nature,  ex 
amination  could  not  help  the  matter.  We  never  could 
thus  make  it  a  primary  want ;  but,  in.  such  case,  in 
creasing  our  knowledge  might  even  eradicate  such 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXYIII. 


148  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

want  if  innately  existing.  If  repulsive,  it  could  only 
be  wanted  as  a  means  of  something  else,  and  then,  as  a 
nauseous  dose,  the  less  thought  of  the  better.  But  God 
•  has  not  so  ordered  it ;  on  the  contrary,  by  the  consti 
tution  of  our  being,  virtue  in  all  its  forms,  in  itself,  ap 
pears  more  harmonious  and  beautiful,  more  lovely  and 
attractive,  the  more  it  is  examined ;  and  hence,  with 
the  power  to  examine,  may  be  made  the  object  of  a  cul 
tivated  want  and  of  consequent  effort  to  attain  it. 

"We  said  the  result  of  the  examination, — the  newly 
discovered  beauties  of  a  flower,  or  of  a  moral  virtue — 
excites,  or  increases  the  want ;  for  the  purely  mental 
wants,  as  well  as  those  associated  with  our  physical 
nature,  have  their  roots  in  the  constitution  of  our  being ; 
and  the  recurrence  of  the  former,  if  not  so  regular  in 
their  periods,  or  so  imperative  in  their  demands  as  the 
latter,  is  still  amply  provided  for  without  any  special 
effort  of  our  own.  God  has  so  constituted  us  that  the 
want  of  progress — of  something  better  than  the  present 
attainment — is  an  universal  want,  occurring  in  our  spir 
itual,  even  more  certainly  than  the  appropriate  wants 
in  our  physical  constitution.  The  occurrence  of  them 
in  both  and  our  providing  not  only  for  their  immediate 
gratification,  but  for  their  recurrence  in  the  future, 
make  conflicting  wants,  between  which  we  have  to 
decide ;  and  though  our  decisions  in  such  cases  may 
become  habitual,  and  be  almost  unnoticeable,  yet  the 
occasions  for  such  decisions  will  continue  to  arise. 

The  occurrence  and  recurrence  of  our  spiritual  wants 
are  as  certain  as  those  of  hunger.  We  are  continually 
reminded  of  them  by  our  own  thoughts  and  acts,  by 
comparison  with  those  of  others,  and  by  those  external 
appearances,  which  result  from  God's  thought  and  ac- 


OF  EFFORT  FOE   INTERNAL   CHANGE.  149 

tion ;  and  He  has  placed  within  us  the  moral  sense,  as 
a  sentinel,  with  its  intuitions  more  certainly  warning  us 
of  what,  in  wants,  or  means,  is  noxious  to  our  moral 
nature,  than  the  senses  of  taste  and  smell  do  of  what  is 
injurious  to  our  physical. 

These  remarks,  with  our  previous  reasoning,  lead  us 
to  the  conclusion  that  want,  constitutional,  acquired,  or 
cultivated,  is  the  source  of  effort  for  internal,  as  well  as 
external  change,  and  that  this  is  true  of  every  order  of 
intelligent,  active  being. 

God  directs  His  efforts  with  infinite  knowledge,  per 
fectly  considered,  or  comprehended — perfect  wisdom  ; 
man,  his  with  finite  knowledge,  imperfectly  considered, 
or  only  partially  comprehended — fallible  judgment,  or 
imperfect  wisdom.  Infinite  wisdom  always  reconciles 
its  wants,  or  the  mode  of  gratifying  them,  with  what 
is  right ;  and  hence,  moral  perfection.  Man's  finite 
wisdom  does  not  always  reconcile  his  wants,  or  the 
mode  of  gratifying  them,  with  absolute  right ;  and 
hence,  moral  evil, -or  imperfection,  in  his  general  con 
dition  as  exhibited  in  aggregated  social  combination ; 
nor  yet  with  his  own  conceptions  of  right ;  and  hence, 
individual  moral  depravity,  which  can  only  exist  when 
his  efforts  are  not  put  forth  in  conformity  to  his  knowl 
edge  or  sense  of  right. 

As  a  man  cannot  do  any  moral  wrong  in  doing  what 
he  believes  to  be  right,  his  knowledge,  though  finite,  is 
infallible  as  to  what  it  is  morally  right  for  him  to  do  ;  * 
and  his  fallibility  in  morals  must  consist  in  his  liability 
to  act  at  variance  with  his  knowledge,  or  conviction  of 
right,  and  never  in  deficiency  of  knowledge,  or  even  in 
belief.  In  this  view,  his  knowledge  in  the  sphere  of  his 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXIX. 


150  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

morai  nature  is  infallible,  and  were  he  infinitely  wise, 
or  certain  to  act  in  conformity  to  his  knowledge  of  the 
right,  he  would  be  infallible  in  his  moral  sphere  of 
action. 

It  is  also  evident  that  the  mind  must  direct  its 
efforts  for  internal  change  by  means  of  those  preconcep 
tions  of  the  future  effects  of  its  efforts,  which  its  knowl 
edge  enables  it  to  form. 

ISTow  a  preconception  is  an  imaginary  construction,* 
an  incipient  creation  of  the  mind  in  the  future.  In 
forming  it,  the  mind  does  not,  of  necessity,  even  con 
sider,  or  recognize  the  already  existing  external  circum 
stances.  'In  "  castle-building  "  it  often  voluntarily  dis 
cards  these  circumstances  and  forms  a  construction 
entirely  from  .its  own  internal  being.  Retaining  its 
knowledge  of  the  past,  and  having  the  power  of  ab 
straction,  it  could  just  as  well  conceive  even  an  external 
creation,  if  all  external  existences,  facts,  and  circum 
stances  were  annihilated.  A  man  thus  isolated  may 
imagine  a  universe  in  which  all  is,  in  his  view,  beauti 
ful  and  good ;  or,  confining  himself  to  his  own  being 
and  prompted  by  his  physical  wants,  he  may,  in  im 
agination,  revel  in  all  the  luxuries  of  sense.  He  may 
not  even  intend  to  make  the  additional  effort  to  actual 
ize  these  combinations,  and  make  them  palpable  to 
others,  or  permanent  within  himself.  If  he  makes  such 
effort  he,  perhaps,  finds  that  it  is  unavailing,  and  that 
he  cannot  give  external  reality  to  his  creative  concep 
tion  of  such  a  universe,  and  that  he  has  not  the  means 
to  obtain  the  luxuries  he  has  imagined.  Yet  he  has 
formed  these  ideal  constructions  as  freely  and  as  inde 
pendently  of  all  other  existing  causes,  as  though  he  had 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXX. 


OF  EFFOET  FOE  INTEENAL   CHANGE.  151 

omnipotent  power  to  realize  the  conceptions  in  an  out- 
ward  creation. 

So,  too,  if  moved  by  the  aspirations  of  his  spiritual 
being,  he  may  conceive  in  himself  a  moral  nature,  pure 
and  noble,  resisting  all  temptation  to  evil  and  conform 
ing  with  energetic  and  persevering  effort  to  all  virtuous 
impulses  and  suggestions.  Though  we  may  make  no 
effort  and  not  even  intend  to  make  any  to  realize  such 
ideal  conceptions,  they  are  not  without  their  influence 
on  our  moral  nature.  They  appear  sometimes  to  be 
formed  merely  for  the  exercise  of  our  faculties  in  con 
structing,  and  sometimes  for  the  pleasure  of  contem 
plating  new  and  varied  forms  of  harmony  and  beauty  ; 
and,  in  both  cases,  they  are  not  without  utility.  The 
preconceptions  thus  sportively  made  add  to  our  knowl 
edge  and  to  our  skill  in  combining,  and  furnish  models 
which  may  be  available  for  future  practical  use.  Poetry 
presents  us  with  such  constructions  ready  formed  by 
others.  These  purely  ideal  conceptions  have  this  ad 
vantage,  that,  in  forming  them,  the  mind  being  free 
from  the  excitements  and  selfish  inducements,  from  the 
temptations  of  actual  affairs,  is  more  disinterested  in 
its  judgment  of  right  and  wrong  and  acquires  expe 
rience  and  forms  habits,  which,  without  its  actually  en 
countering,  prepare  it  for  the  exigencies  of  real  life. 
The  making  of  such  constructions  as  harmonize  with 
our  conceptions  of  moral  excellence  is  itself  improving  ; 
a  determination  in  advance,  by  persevering  effort  to 
make  them  manifest  in  action  upon  proper  occasion,  is  a 
greater  step  in  progress ;  and  the  mere  willing  to  ac 
tualize  them,  when  the  occasion  presents,  is,  so  far  as 
the  moral  nature  is  concerned,  really  their  final  con 
summation  ;  for,  whether  the  effort  be  exhibited  in  ex- 


152  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

ternal  manifestation  or  not,  makes  no  difference  to  the 
condition  of  the  moral  nature.  The  external  act  or 
effect  is  but  the  tangible  evidence  to  others  of  the  in 
ternal  effort,  which  is  the  real  manifestation  of  the 
moral  element.  This  is  in  harmony  with  our  statement 
that,  producing  the  intended  effect  is  not  material  to 
our  freedom  in  willing  it.  If  a  man  wills  to  do  an  act 
which  is  good  and  noble,  it  matters  not,  concerning  his 
virtue,  whether  his  effort  be  successful  or  otherwise ; 
the  effort  is,  itself,  the  triumph  in  him  of  the  good  and 
noble  over  the  bad  and  base.  If  the  object  of  the  effort, 
instead  of  external  good  and  noble  action,  is  the  direct 
improvement  of  his  .own  moral  nature,  then  the  perse 
vering  effort  to  be  good  and  noble  is,  itself,  being  good 
and  noble: 

It  follows  from  these  positions  that,  as  regards  the 
moral  nature,  there  can  be  no  failure  except  the  failure 
to  will,  or  to  make  the  proper  effort.  The  human 
mind,  with  its  want,  knowledge  and  power  of  abstrac 
tion,  having  the  power  within  and  from  itself  to  form 
its  creative  preconceptions  and  to  will  their  actual  reali 
zation  independently  of  any  other  cause,  power,  or 
existence  of  any  kind,  up  to  the  point  of  willing ',  is,  in 
its  own  sphere,  an  independent  creative  first  cause. 
Exterior  to  itself  it  may  have  no  power  whatever  to 
execute  what  it  wills,  or,  having  some  power,  it  may  be 
frustrated,  or  counteracted  by  other  external  forces ; 
and  hence,  in  the  external,  the  contemplated  creative 
consummation  of  volition  may  not  be  reached  ;  but,  as 
in  the  moral  nature,  the  willing,  the  persevering  effort 
is  itself  the  consummation,  there  can,  in  it,  be  no  such 
failure ;  and  the  mind,  in  it,  is  therefore  not  only  a 
creative,  but  a  SUPEEME  CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 


OF  EFFOET  FOR  INTERNAL   CHANGE.  153 

We  have  then,  between  effort  in  the  sphere  of  the 
moral  nature  and  in  that  sphere  whici  is  external  to  it, 
this  marked  difference :  that  while  in  the  external  there 
must  be  something  beyond  the  effort ;  i.  e.,  there  must 
be  that  subsequent  change,  which  is  the  object  of  the 
effort,  before  the  creation  is  consummated ;  in  the 
sphere  of  the  moral  nature,  the  effort  is  itself  the  con 
summation,  and  all  that  follows  but  manifests  the  con 
dition,  or  the  want  of  that  nature,  which,  though  innate, 
and  originally  developed  by  the  actual  occurrences  of 
life,  may  yet  have  been  cultivated  by  the  mind  in  con 
templating  its  ideal  preconceptions,  without  the  inter 
ference  of  external  causes,  or  of  circumstances,  except 
so  far  as  those  externals  may  have  suggested  this  culti 
vation,  or  have  added  to  the  knowledge  of  the  means 
of  effecting  it. 

In  the  sphere  of  its  own  moral  nature,  then,  what 
ever  the  finite  mind  really  wills  is  as  immediately  and 
as  certainly  executed,  as  is  the  will  of  Omnipotence  in 
its  sphere  of  action ;  for  the  willing,  in  such  case,  is 
itself  the  final  accomplishment  of  the  creative  precon 
ception  which  the  mind  has  formed  in  and  of  itself. 
We  must  here  be  careful  to  distinguish  between  that 
mere  abstract  judgment,  or  knowledge  of  what  is 
desirable  in  our  moral  nature,  and  the  want,  which 
leads  to  the  actual  willing,  or  effort  to  attain  it.  A 
man  may  know  that  it  is  best  for  him  to  be  pure  and 
noble  and  yet,  in  view  of  some  expected,  or  habitual 
gratification,  not  only  not  want  to  be  then  pure  and 
noble,  but  be  absolutely  opposed  to  being  made  so, 
even  if  some  external  power  could  and  would  effect  it 
for  him.  We  may,  however,  remark  that,  as  the  moral 
quality  of  the  action  lies  wholly  in  the  will  and  no 
7* 


154  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN  WILLING. 

other  being  can  will  for  him,  to  be  morally  good  with 
out  his  own  effarts  is  an  impossibility ;  all  that  any 
other  being  can  do  for  him  in  this  respect  is  to  use 
means  to  excite  his  wants  and  increase  his  knowledge, 
and  thus  induce  him  to  put  forth  his  own  efforts.  Even 
Omnipotence  can  do  no  more  than  this  ;  for  doing  more, 
— the  making  a  man  virtuous  without  voluntary  effort 
of  his  own — involves  a  contradiction.  The  accumula 
tions  of  virtuous  effort  are  manifested  in  the  knowledge 
which  indicates,  and  the  cultivated  wants  which  re 
quire  right  action.  The  influence  of  such  knowledge 
and  wants  becoming  persistent  and  fixed  by  habit 
forms,  as  it  were,  the  substance  of  virtuous  character. 

A  man,  who  does  not  want  to  be  pure  and  noble, 
may  yet  begin  one  step  lower  in  the  scale  of  moral  ad 
vancement,  with  the  want  to  want  to  be  pure  and 
noble ;  and,  .here  commencing  the  cultivation  of  his 
moral  nature,  ascend  from  this  lower  point,  through 
the  want  to  be  pure  and  noble,  to  the  free  effort  to 
gratify  this  want. 

The  effort  of  a  man  to  be  good  and  noble  is  the  con 
summation,  is  actually  being  good  and  noble.  The  vir 
tue,  in  the  time  of  that  effort,  all  lies  in,  or  in  and  within 
the  effort,  and  not  in  its  success  or  failure,  which  is 
beyond,  or  without  the  effort.  It  is,  for  the  time,  being 
just  as  perfect  if  no  external,  or  no  permanent  results 
follow  the  effort.  If  the  good  effort  is  transitory,  the 
moral  goodness  is  equally  so,  and  may  be  as  mere 
flashes  of  light  upon  the  gloom  of  a  settled  moral  de 
pravity. 

Nor  does  the  nature  of  the  resulting  effect  make 
any  difference  to  the  moral  quality,  or  character  of  the 
sffort.  A.  man's  intentions  may  be  most  virtuous,  and  yet 


OF   EFFORT  FOE   INTERNAL   CHANGE.  155 

the  actual  consequences  of  his  efforts  be  most  pernicious. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  man  may  be  as  selfish  in  doing  acts 
beneficent  to  others,  may  do  good  to  others  with  as  nar 
row  calculations  of  personal  benefit,  as  in  doing  those 
acts  which  he  knows  will  be  most  injurious  to  his  fellow- 
men  ;  and  doing  such  acts  for  selfish  ends  manifests  no 
virtue,  whether  that  end  be  making  money,  or  reaching 
Heaven,*  and  brings  with  it  neither  the  self-approval, 
nor  the  elevating  influences  of  generous,  self-forgetting, 
or  self-sacrificing  action. f  The  moral  nature  of  a  voli 
tion  is  not,  then,  in  any  way  affected  by  what  actually 
follows  that  volition. 

Again,  no  moral  wrong  can  pertain  to  a  man  for 
any  event  in  which  he  has  had,  and  could  have  no 
agency,  which  he  could  neither  promote,  nor  prevent. 
Until  he  has  put  forth  effort,  against  his  knowledge  of 
duty,  or  omitted  to  put  it  forth  in  conformity  with  this 
knowledge,  there  can  be  no  moral  wrong.  There  is  no 
present  moral  wrong,  either  in  the  knowledge  now  in 
his  mind,  or  in  the  exciting  want  which  he  now  feels. 
There  may  have  been  moral  wrong  in  the  acquisition 
of  any  knowledge,  or  in  the  omission  to  acquire  any, 
which  required  an  effort.  Such  acquisition  or  omission 
may  have  then  been  counter  to  his  conviction  of  right. . 
There  can  be  no  moral  wrong  in  the  acquisition  of 
that  knowledge,  which  he  unintentionally  acquires  by 
observation.  That  a  man  involuntarily  knows  that 
the  sun  shines,  or  that  a  drum  is  beating,  cannot  be 
morally  wrong  in  itself.  So  likewise,  that  any  knowl 
edge  now  actually  has  place  in  his  mind  can,  of  itself, 
involve  no  present  moral  wrong  doing,  though  the 
fact-  that  it  is  there  may  be  evidence  of  a  previous 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXI.         f  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXH. 


156  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

moral  wrong  committed  in  its  acquisition.  This  lie 
cannot  now  prevent.  Such  knowledge  may  have  so 
polluted  his  moral  nature,  that  it  will  require  an  effort 
to  purify  it.  The  polluting  arose  from  the  previous 
effort  to  acquire,  or,  negatively,  from  not  making  the 
effort  to  prevent  acquiring,  and  not  from  the  mere  fact 
of  possessing  the  knowledge,  which  is  now  beyond  his 
control,  and  does  not,  of  itself,  alter  the  moral  condi 
tion  from  that  state  in  which  the  wrong  of  acquisition 
left  it,  though  every  wrong  application  of  it  may  do  so. 

So  also  in  regard  to  the  natural  wants.  There  is 
no  moral  wrong  in  the  mere  fact  of  their  recurrence. 
There  may  be  moral  wrong  in  our  willing  to  gratify  a 
want,  which  should  not  be  gratified,  or  in  entertaining, 
or  cultivating  one,  which  should  be  discarded,  or  eradi 
cated,  or  in  the  time,  or  the  mode  of  the  gratification. 
That  such  want  exists  at  all,  or  that  it  should  recur  at 
such  time,  may  be  proof  of  a  previous  wrong  effort  in 
cultivating  the  wants,  or  of  an  omission  to  cultivate 
some  conflicting  want ;  but,  if  its  present  recurrence  is 
not  by  our  own  effort,  such  recurrence,  of  itself,  can 
involve  no  present  moral  wrong,  and  merely  furnishes 
the  occasion  for  virtuous  effort  to  resist  what  is  wrong, 
or  to  foster  and  strengthen  what  is  right.  The  want 
may  indicate  the  present  condition  of  the  moral  nature, 
while  it  also  supplies  the  opportunities  which  make 
both  improvement  and  degeneracy  possible.  Though 
that  condition  may  be  comparatively  low  in  the  scale, 
yet  an  effort  to  advance  from  this  point  may  be  as  truly 
and  purely  virtuous  as  a  like  effort  at  any  higher  point 
in  the  scale. 

In  the  present  moment^  then,  the  knowledge  and  the 
want,  which  exist  prior  to  the  effort,  involve  no  present 


OF   EFFORT   FOR   INTERNAL    CHANGE. 

^4£^ 

moral  right  and  wrong  ;  and,  as  we  have  already  shown 
that  the  sequence  of  the  effort  does  not,  it  follows  that 
the  moral  right  and  wrong  are  all  concentrated  in  the 
effort,  or  act  of  will,  which  is  our  own  free  act. 

Efforts  to  be  pure  and  noble,  and  for  corresponding 
external  action,  may  become  habitual,  and  hence  com 
paratively  easy ;  habit,  as  before  explained,  in  this  as 
in  other  cases,  retaining,  or  holding  fast  what  is  ac 
quired  in  action,  and  thus  leaving  the  mind  at  liberty 
to  employ  itself  in  new  acquisitions, — new  progress  in 
action. 

"We  may  further  observe  in  this  connection  that  our 
moral  wants  differ  from  our  physical,  in  existing  in 
thought,  which  is  more  under  the  control  of  the  mind's 
acts  of  will  than  the  physical  conditions  of  bodily  wants ; 
and  though  we  cannot  directly  will  not  to  think  of  any 
thing,  yet  by  willing  to  think  of  something  else  we 
may  displace  and  banish  the  first  thought ;  so,  though 
we  cannot  directly  will  the  removal  of  a  want,  yet  we 
can  will  to  direct  our  attention  to  something  else,  and 
also  use  our  knowledge  of  means  to  call  up,  or  induce 
another  want;  and  thus  be  unmindful  of,  or  discard  the 
first  want.  And  though  this  is  especially  true  of  the 
moral  wants,  it  partially  applies  also  to  the  physical. 
We  know,  for  instance,  that  by  exercise  and  fasting  we 
can  induce  hunger  ;  and  we  may  find  means  of  inducing 
any  moral  want  and  by  the  use  of  these  means,  some 
of  which  we  have  already  suggested,  may  give  some 
one  moral  want  a  preponderance  over  others,  which,  by 
repetition  becoming  habitual,  will  go  far  to  eradicate  a 
discarded  moral  want  and  to  modify  the  influence  even 
of  the  physical.  m 

If  entirely  eradicated  there  can  be  no  corresponding 


158  FREEDOM    OF   MIND    IN   WILLING. 

.volition  and  a  man  habitually  holy,  who  has  eradicated 
the  conflicting  wants,  loses  the  power  to  will  what  is 
unholy ;  and,  as  he  cannot  be  unholy,  except  by  his 
own  voluntary  act,  he  has  then  no  power  to  be  unholy. 
This  is,  perhaps,  a  condition  to  which  a  finite  moral  na 
ture  may  forever  approximate,  but  never  actually  reach, 
never  attain  that  condition  of  perfection  in  which  it  is 
absolutely  unable  to  will  what  is  impure  and  ignoble.* 

A  being  infinitely  wise,  pure  and  noble  cannot, 
while  in  that  condition,  will  what  is  in  any  degree  un 
wise,  impure,  or  ignoble,  this  being  contradictory  ;  and, 
if  such  a  being  has  no  want  and  no  susceptibility  to 
want  what  is  unwise,  impure  and  ignoble,  such  being 
cannot  freely  will  what  is  unwise,  impure  and  ignoble  ; 
and  if,  as  we  have  endeavored  to  show,  the  will  cannot 
act  otherwise  than  freely,  such  a  being  cannot  will  what 
is  thus  contradictory  to  its  nature. 

Our  moral  wants,  like  our  physical,  are  many  of 
them  wholly  innate,  while  for  others  there  is  only  an 
adaptive  preparation.  As  we  may,  from  our  acquired 
knowledge,  come  to  want  and  to  cultivate  some  particu 
lar  physical  want,  so  we  may  also  come  to  want  and  to 
cultivate  any  of  our  moral  wants  ;  as,  for  instance,  from 
our  observation  of  others,  or  our  own  past  experience, 
or  from  reflection,  may  want  to  want  to  progress  in 
holiness — want  to  want  to  be  holy — and,  if  we  have  the 
requisite  knowledge,  we  may  adopt  means  to  gratify 
the  exciting  want,  which,  in  this  case,  is  an  acquired 
want,  and  thus  induce  the  want  to  be  holy,  which 
though  a  natural,  or  innate  want,  by  this  process  be 
comes,  also,  a  cultivated  want.  Through  this  knowl 
edge  of  the  means  of  giving  to  some*  of  our  internal 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXTH. 


'  OF   EFFOET   FOE   INTEENAL   CHANGE.  159 

wants  a  predominance  over  others,  we  are  enabled  by 
effort  to  influence  our  moral  characteristics  at  their 
very  sVurce.  Even  under  circumstances  least  favorable 
to  the  recognition  of  our  spiritual  condition,  amid  the 
engrossments  of  sense,  the  excitements  of  passion,  or  the 
turmoil  of  absorbing  business,  external  events  will  often 
suggest  our  moral  wants,  while  in  calm  and  thought 
ful  moments  they  present  themselves  as  spontaneously 
as  thirst  in  a  summer's  day.*  But  as  a  prudent  man 
will  anticipate  his  bodily  'wants  and  look  around  to 
provide  for  their  recurrence,  and  thus  maintain  his 
physical  vigor,  it  is  also  wise  to  keep  our  moral  wants 
in  view  and  to  bestow  on  them  such  attention  as  will 
sustain  our  moral  energy.  The  intuitive  knowledge  to 
examine  avails  in  both  cases.  Whatever  of  moral  im 
provement  we  effect  in  this  way,  must  be  from  the 
want ;  from  the  preconception,  or  knowledge,  reduced 
to  a  form  available  to  the  gratification  of  the  want ;  and 
by  the  effort. 

Having  now  shown  that,  by  means  of  such  knowl 
edge,  we  can  cultivate  our  wants  and  thus  give  one  or 
the  other  of  conflicting  wants  the  ascendancy  and  pro 
mote  one  to  the,  at  least,  partial  exclusion  of  others ; 
that  the  knowledge  of  .each  individual  as  to  what  is 
morally  right  for  him  is  infallible  ;  that  the  mind  can 
form  an  ideal  construction,  or  preconception  within 
itself,  without  reference  to  any  external  existence  ;  that 
it  can  freely  make  effort  to  realize  such  construction ; 
and  that,  nothing  ~beyond  the  effort  has  any  influence 
upon  the  moral  nature  of  the  effort,  or  of  the  agent 
making  the  effort ;  we  may,  more  confidently  than  be 
fore,  deduce  the  conclusion,  that  the  mind  in  the  sphere 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXIV. 


160  FREEDOM   OF  MIND   IN  WILLING. 

of  its  own  moral  nature,  applying  an  infallible  knowl 
edge  which  it  possesses,  to  material  purely  its  own, 
may  conceive  an  ideal  moral  creation  and  then  realize 
the  ideal  construction  in  an  actual  creation  by  and  in 
its  own  act  of  will ;  and  hence,  when  willing  in  the 
sphere  of  his  own  moral  nature,  man  is  not  only  a  crea 
tive  first  cause,  but  a  supreme  creative  First  Cause ;  and, 
as  his  moral  nature  can  be  affected  only  by  his  own  act 
of  will,  and  no  other  power  can  will,  or  produce  his  own 
act  of  will,  he  is,  in  it,  also  a  sole  creative  first  cause, 
though  still  a  finite  cause.  Other  intelligences  may 
aid  him  by  imparting  knowledge ;  may,  by  word,  or 
action,  instruct  him  in  the  architecture  ;  but  the  appli 
cation  of  this  knowledge,  the  actual  building,  must  be 
by  himself  alone.  Though  finite,  his  efficiency  as  cause 
in  this  sphere  is  limited  only  by  that  limit  of  all  crea 
tive  power,  the  incompatible,  or  contradictory  ;  and  by 
his  conceptions  of  change  in  his  moral  nafure,  which  are 
dependent  upon  the  extent  of  his  knowledge ;  and,  in 
this  view,  the  will  itself  having  no  bounds  of  its  own, 
may  be  regarded  as  infinite,  though  the  range  for  its 
action  is  finite ;  or,  in  other  words,  within  the  sphere 
of  its  moral  nature,  the  finite  mind  can  will  any  possible 
change  of  which  it  can  conceive,  or  of  which  it  can 
form  a  preconception  ;  and,  as  the  willing  it  is  the  con 
summation  of  this  preconception,  there  is  no  change  in 
our  moral  being,  which  we  can  conceive  of,  that  we 
have  not  the  ability  to  consummate  by  effort ;  and  as, 
so  far  as  we  know,  our  power  to  conceive  of  new  prog 
ress,  to  form  new  conceptions  of  change,  enlarges  with 
every  consummation  of  a  previous  conception,  there  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  is  any  absolute  limit  to 
our  moral  sphere  of  effort,  but  that  it  is  only  relatively 


OF  EFFORT  FOK  INTERNAL   CHANGE.  161 

and  temporarily  circumscribed  by  our  finite  perceptions, 
which,  having  a  finite  rate  of  increase,  may  forever  con 
tinue  to  expand  in  it  without  pressing  on  its  outermost 
bound ;  and,  if  all  these  positions  are  true,  every  intel 
ligent  being,  with  power  of  abstraction  and  a  moral 
nature,  has  in  his  own  moral  nature  for  the  exercise  of 
his  creative  powers  an  infinite  sphere,  within  which, 
with  knowledge  there  infallible,  he  is  the  supreme  dis 
poser  ;  and  in  which,  without  his  free  will,  nothing  is 
made,  but  all  the  creations  in  it  are  as  singly  and  solely 
his  as  if  no  other  intelligent  cause  existed ;  and  for 
which  he  is,  of  course,  as  singly  and  solely  responsible 
as  God  is  for  the  creations  in  that  sphere  in  which  He 
manifests  His  creative  power ;  though,  as  a  finite,  created 
being,  even  in  this,  his  own  allotted  sphere,  man  may 
still  be  properly  accountable  for  the  use  of  his  creative 
powers  to  Him  who  gave  them. 


CHAPTEK   XV, 

CONCLUSION, 

I  HAVE  now  endeavored  to  show,  in  the  first  place, 

That  it  is,  at  least,  doubtful  whether  there  can  be 
any  unintelligent  cause. 

That,  be  this  as  it  may,  every  intelligent  being  that 
wills,  is  itself  cause,  in  a  sphere  which  is  commensurate 
with  its  knowledge. 

That  the  finite  intelligence,  in  the  lowest  form  of 
instinctive  action  in  which  it  merely  acts  out  an  intui 
tive  plan  furnished  to  it  ready  formed,  which  is  the 
only  one  it  knows  and  of  which  it  may  know  only  one 
step  at  a  time,  is  still  a  first  cause. 

That,  when  its  knowledge  embraces  the  whole  plan, 
so  that  it  works  with  a  view  to  an  end,  it  enters  the 
sphere  of  a  designing  first  cause. 

And  that,  when,  with  still  increased  knowledge,  it 
forms  its  own  plans  of  action,  it  becomes  an  originating 
first  cause,  by  the  exercise  of  its  finite  powers  within 
the  sphere  of  its  finite  knowledge,  in  which  it  has  a 
finite  presence,  freely  creating ',  as  God,  by  the  exercise 
of  His  infinite  powers,  creates  in  that  infinite  sphere 
in  which  He  is  Omniscient  and  Omnipresent. 

That  such  creative  action  is,  in  some  cases,  rendered 
more  easy  to  the  finite  mind  by  its  adopting  through 


CONCLUSION.  163 

memory  and  association  the  plans  it  has  before  formed 
in  similar  cases,  and  thus,  in  habitual  actions,  saving 
itself  the  labor  of  forming  new  plans. 

That  the  mind  has  innately,  as  a  part  of  its  constitu 
tional  existence,  the  knowledge  which  enables  it  to  will, 
or  by  effort  either  directly  to  do  certain  things,  or  to 
put  its  own  powers  for  doing  them  in  action  ;  and  also 
to  cause  muscular  movements,  which  are  its  first  step 
in  producing  changes  external  to  itself. 

And  that,  having  this  ability  to  be  active  and  by 
its  knowledge  to  direct  its  activity,  it  is  incited  to  effort 
by  want,  also,  at  least,  in  the  first  and  in  most  instances, 
constitutional. 

That  this  effort  in  each  case  is  a  beginning,  which, 
except  in  the  case  of  habitual  modes,  applied  to  like 
occasions,  or  through  some  change  in  its  knowledge,  is 
in  no  wise  dependent  upon  its  own  former  activity,  nor 
related  to  the  external  results  of  that  activity,  any  more 
than  to  such  results  brought  about  by  any  other  activi 
ty,  or  cause. 

That  the  effort  cannot  be  connected  with  anything 
in  the  past  as  a  necessary  effect,  but  can  only  be  so  con 
nected  at  all  by  the  action  of  the  mind. 

That,  at  each  effort,  the  mind  takes  things  as  they 
actually  present  themselves  to  it  at  the  moment  of  will 
ing,  as  the  basis  of  new  action,  using  this,  or  any  other 
available  knowledge  it  may  have,  to  form  preconcep 
tions  of  the  effect  of  any  contemplated  action  on  the 
future,  including  also  the  condition  of  that  future  in 
case  it  does  not  act,  and  then,  by  a  preliminary  exer 
cise  of  its  faculties,  comparing  these  preconceptions  and 
judging,  or,  as  we  may  otherwise  express  it,  by  deliber 
ation  applying  its  knowledge  to  a  judgment, — and  thus 


164:  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

determines,  for  itself,  by  what  mode  it  will  endeavor  to 
gratify  the  exciting  want,  and  makes  the  corresponding 
final  effort,  or  efforts  ;  or  if  it  favors  that  preconception 
in  which  the  element  of  its  own  effort  is  not,  it  makes 
no  effort ;  the  deciding  between  these  preconceptions  is, 
itself,  the  determination  of  the  mind  as  to  its  course ; 
its  determined  plan  of  action,  its  idea  of  the  change  it 
will  produce  and  of  the  mode  in  which  it  will  produce  it, 
are  thereby  completed ;  the  creation  it  would  will  into 
existence  is  conceived,  is  separated  from  all  other  con 
ceivable  combinations,  and  a  successful  effort  to  realize, 
or  to  actualize  that  preconception,  or,  in  other  words, 
producing  by  an  effort  that  change  in  the  future  which 
the  mind  in  virtue  of  its  intelligence  perceives  in  ad 
vance  to  be  required  by  its  want,  finishes  the  creation 
which  that  want  demanded  ;  and  the  mind  will  create 
no  more  until  it  has  another  want,  and  conceives,  or 
designs  some  new  creation  to  gratify  it. 

That  innate  wants  and  intuitive  knowledge  thus 
furnish  a  basis  for  the  beginning  of  voluntary  action, 
which  is  further  developed  and  its  sphere  of  action  en 
larged  by  increase  of  knowledge. 

That  man,  having  .a  power  to  will  and  a  want  to 
will,  may  will,  or  that,  having  a  want,  for  the  gratifica 
tion  of  which  an  act  of  will,  or  a  series  of  acts  is  neces 
sary,  he  wills  in  such  a  particular  way,  rather  than  in 
any  other,  because,  being  intelligent,  he  knows,  or 
judges  that  particular  way  to  be  best  adapted  to  the 
end. 

That  every  particular,  or  distinct  existence  must 
have  some  peculiar  characteristic,  to  distinguish  it  from 
other  existence,  as,  without  such  distinctions,  all  exist 
ence  would  be  one  existence  ;  and  that  the  pre-requisites 


CONCLUSION.  165 

of  effort,  want,  knowledge  and  faculty  of  will,  are  a 
part  of  the  characteristics,  attributes,  or  conditions, 
which  distinguish  active,  intelligent  beings  from  other 
existences. 

That  the  object  of  the  effort,  is  always  to  produce 
some  change  in  the  future ;  and  that,  in  this  work  of 
producing  some  change  and  thus  creating  the  future, 
every  being,  that  designs  and  wills,  is  a  creative  first 
cause — a  co-worker  with  God — to  the  extent  of  its  finite 
power,  freely  and  independently  putting  forth  its  efforts 
to  modify  that  future,  which  is  the  composite  result  of 
the  combined  action  of  all  efficient  causes.* 

I  have  also  endeavored  to  show : 

That  man,  having  a  power  of  abstraction,  may  form 
and  vary  his  preconceptions,  or  incipient  creations,  pure 
ly  from  his  own  internal  ideas,  without  any  reference 
whatever  to  any  other  existence  ;  and  may  freely  and 
independently  make  effort  to  actualize  these  preconcep 
tions. 

That  the  effort  to  actualize  them  is,  so  far  as  relates 
to  his  own  moral  nature,  the  consummation  of  his 
creative  conceptions,  and  that  hence,  in  the  sphere  of 
his  own  moral  nature,  man  is  not  only  a  creative  first 
cause,  but  a  supreme  creative  first  cause,  limited  in  the 
effects  he  may  there  produce  only  by  that  limit  of  his 
knowledge,  within  which  his  creative  preconceptions 
are  of  necessity  circumscribed  and  by  the  impossibility 
of  working  contradictions,  which  applies  to  the  Infinite 
as  well  as  to  the  finite  intelligence. 

And  further,  that  of  the  only  pre-requisite  antece 
dents  of  his  creations,  want,  knowledge  and  faculty  of 
will,  the  want,  though  it  excites  to  action,  or  is  the  oc- 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXV. 


166  FEEEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

casion  for  it,  does  not  direct,  or  even  indicate  the  direc 
tion  of  the  effort,  which  the  mind  must  do  by  means  of 
its  knowledge,  and  that,  in  regard  to  its  moral  action, 
this  knowledge  being  infallible,  man  can  there  only  err 
by  knowingly  willing  what  is  wrong,  and  as  this  wrong 
willing  must  be  his  own  free  act,  an  act  which  no  other 
being  or  power  can  do  for  him,  he  is,  as  a  sole  first 
cause,  solely  responsible  for  it  and  for  all  the  results  he 
intended,  or  which  he  might  have  foreseen  and  pre 
vented,  and  is  himself  the  real  author  of  all  the  neces 
sary  consequences  of  such  action. 

That,  as  his  only  possible  moral  wrong  is  in  his 
freely  willing  counter  to  his  knowledge  of  moral  right, 
and  the  knowledge  by  which  he  directs  his  efforts  is 
here  as  infallible  as  that  of  Omniscience,  and  his  power 
of  will,  within  the  sphere  of  that  knowledge,  unlimited, 
he  cannot  excuse  himself  on  the  ground  of  his  own  fal 
lible  nature,  or  even  urge  it  in  mitigation  of  a  wrong 
effort.  He  must  have  known  the  wrong  at  the  time  he 
willed,  or  it  would  not  be  a  moral  wrong.  He  must 
have  been  able  to  will  rightly,  for  his  knowledge,  which 
is  the  only  limit  to  this  ability,  embraced  all  that  was 
essential  to  action  morally  right. 

In  this  system,  then,  wants  are  pre-requisites  of  all 
intelligent  activity.  In  the  most  common  affairs  of 
life,  we  put  'forth  effort  to  provide  food,  raiment,  and 
shelter ;  and  in  those  more  important,  or  rather  those 
more  extende^  they  still  lie  at  the  foundation  of  the 
greater,  or  more  complicated  movements  ;  and  he  who 
contends  for  the  mastery  of  empires,  may  really  be 
stimulated  only  by  the  innate  and  seemingly  insignifi 
cant  wants  of  his  animal  being,  aggravated  by  an  ex 
clusive  cultivation.  From  this  low  condition  he  begins 


CONCLUSION.  167 

to  rise  as  soon  as  such  wants  as  those  of  the  approbation 
of  himself  or  of  others,  have  influence  and  the  love  of 
glory  finds  place.  This  is  perhaps  the  first  stage  in 
that  moral  progress,  of  which  the  harmonious  blending 
of  love  and  duty  in  our  wants  is  the  last  term. 

"With  wants  thus  essential  to  the  development  of  his 
active  nature,  man  is  most  bountifully  provided.  They 
permeate  his  whole  being.  He  has  numerous  physical 
wants ;  his  intellect  wants  knowledge,  truth ;  his  ses- 
thetic  nature  requires  the  beautiful ;  his  moral  qualities 
demand  all  that  is  right  and  just  in  principle,  or  noble 
in  sentiment,  with  corresponding  action ;  and  his  re 
ligious  element  requires  the  contemplation  of  the  ethe 
real,  pure  and  holy,  with  a  relying  faith  in  the  pro 
tecting  power  and  sympathy  of  some  adorable  object 
of  gratitude,  reverence,  and  love. 

Besides  all  these  particular  wants,  he  has  the  gen 
eral  want  of.  improvement  in  his  physical  condition  and 
of  progress  for  his  whole  spiritual  nature.  The  per 
vading  want  of  exercise  for  all  his  faculties  is  an  im 
portant  addition  to  the  system  ;  and,  as  if  to  perfect  this 
apparatus  within  himself  and  make  his  efforts  inde 
pendent  of  suggestion  from  without,  even  of  his  own 
physical  organism,  his  activity  begets  the  want  of  re 
pose  and  his  repose  the  want  of  activity ;  and  nearly 
allied  to  this  the  want  of  variety,  of  novelty,  of  change 
merely  as  change,  by  which  the  very  transitoriness  of 
our  enjoyments  becomes  a  source  of  pleasurable  activity. 

A  being,  with  no  other  wants  than  those  which  spring 
from  the  appetites,  would  be  lower  than  most  brutes, 
for  they  evince  wants  for  superiority  of  some  kinds. 

The  gratification  of  some  of  the  physical  wants,  how 
ever,  being  essential  to  our  present  form  of  existence, 


168  FREEDOM   OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

they  are  most  imperative  ;  but  they  are,  in  their  nature, 
limited  and  temporary,  when  gratified  ceasing  to  exist ; 
and,  if  there  were  no  other  wants,  there  would  he  an 
end  of  all  active  energy  till  they  again  recurred,  as 
seems  to  be  the  case  in  some  animals. 

The  influence  of  these  temporal  wants  is,  however, 
made  less  inconstant  by  the  secondary  want  of  acquisi 
tion,  or  the  want  to  provide,  in  advance,  the  means  of 
gratifying  the  primary  wants,  when  they  shall  recur. 
To  this  acquisitiveness,  even  when  gratification  of  the 
temporal  wants  is  the  sole  object,  there  seems  to  be  no 
limit,  and  it  may  permanently  become  the  habitual 
object  of  effort. 

The  physical  wants  in  their  normal  condition  seem 
to  be  only  preliminary,  to  teach,  or  form  habits  of  per 
severing  effort,  and  thus  fit  the  mind  to  exert  its  powers 
in  the  gratification  of  those  nobler  wants  which  the 
soul's  progress  demands. 

In  these  views  we  may  observe  the  moral  beauty 
of  that  arrangement  by  which  the  physical  wants, 
while  almost  irresistibly  inviting  us  to  action  and  teach 
ing  us  persevering  effort,  between  their  lessons,  natu 
rally  withdraw  themselves  for  a  season  and  leave  the 
soul  free  to  exert  its  powers  upon  its  own  higher  and 
nobler  wants,  and  thus  anticipate  and  prepare  itself  for 
an  exclusive  spiritual  progress.  And  we  may  also  ob 
serve  how  this  beautiful  provision  is  counteracted  and 
perverted,  when  the  acquisitiveness,  which,  as  a  want 
to  secure  the  continuous  or  future  well  being,  is  a  bene 
ficent  provision,  is  cultivated  only  in  its  adaptation  to 
the  physical — a  condition  so  fatal  and  to  which  we  are 
BO  obnoxious,  that  the  idea  of  a  material  Hell  seems  to 
have  been  devised  and  inculcated  to  meet  and  combat 


CONCLUSION.  169 

the  evil  on  its  own  ground.  In  striking  contrast  with 
our  physical  wants,  those  of  our  spiritual  nature  are 
only  further  incited  by  gratification  ;  the  pleasure  from 
them  is  in  the  progress,  and  the  more  they  are  gratified, 
the  more  steadily  they  require  gratification. 

The  insatiable,  or  rather  boundless  wants  of  man's 
spiritual  nature ;  his  want  for  progress,  his  aspiration 
for  something  better  than  he  has  yet  attained,  in  the 
effort  for  which  his  activity  finds  its  appropriate  sphere, 
and  his  want  of  activity,  a  proper  and  exhaustless 
source  of  gratification,  are  essential  to  the  harmonious 
and  uninterrupted  working  of  the  system.  Exclude 
these,  and  the  mind,  absorbed  by  debasing  physical 
gratification,  or  satiated  with  sensuality,  loses  its  vitali 
ty  and  becomes  the  prey  of  ennui.  The  mind,  when 
relieved  from  the  immediate  pressing  cares  of  physical 
existence,  naturally  turns  to  the  spiritual  for  the  em 
ployment  of  its  activities.  It  seeks  to  lay  up  stores  of 
knowledge  as  a  basis  for  its  future  creative  efforts,  or 
as  a  means  of  present  mental  improvement  in  the  ac 
quisition. 

The  child  early  shows  a  disposition  to  form  ideal 
constructions,  and  with  mud  or  blocks,  to  give  them  a 
tangible  external  existence.  Though  our  first  creative 
efforts  are  probably  in  the  material,  they  are  early 
transferred  to  the  moral ;  and  visions  of  glory,  renown, 
honor,  as  the  results  of  lofty  character  and  noble  action, 
find  place  in  the  imagination,  furnishing  us  with  the 
materials  for  constructing  the  airy  castles  which  fiit  be 
fore  the  fancy  and,  in  vanishing,  leave  us  models  of 
grace,  beauty,  and  purity.  We  are  thus,  at  an  early 
period  of  life,  introduced  into  the  moral  sphere  of  con 
structive  effort,  and  the  quickening  influence,  which 
8 


170  FREEDOM    OF   MIND   IN   WILLING. 

the  soul  receives  in  this  direction,  when  the  first  revela 
tions  of  unselfish,  ennobling  and  romantic  passion  fill  it 
with  ideals  of  loveliness,  grace  and  elevation,  and  in 
spire  it  with  lofty  sentiment  and  energetic  virtue,  attests 
the  beneficent  provision  for  moral  culture. 

The  ideal  constructions,  the  incipient  creations  of 
the  mind,  are  sometimes  themselves  the  proper  end,  or 
final  object  of  effort ;  as,  for  instance,  when  by  their 
imagined  beauty,  or  perfection,  which  they  may  em 
body  as  an  actual  creation  in  thought,  they  gratify  an 
aesthetic  want ;  and  sometimes  serve  as  a  substitute 
partially  gratifying  a  want  which  demands  their  out 
ward  realization,  but  which  is  perhaps  difficult  or  im 
possible.  The  mere  castle-building,  however,  is  often 
but  a  pleasurable  exercise  of  tlie  mind,  which,  like  the 
sports  of  youth,  is  a  preparation  for  that  sterner  work 
which  becomes  necessary,  when,  from  the  inflexible 
material  of  principles,  we  would  make  a  construction 
which  will  possess  the  elements  of  durability,  and  be 
worthy  of  preservation.  To  fit  these  unpliant  materials 
to  each  other  in  a  harmonious  system  requires  the  labor 
of  severe  thought,  and  to  protect  it  from  the  assaults  to 
which,  when  constructed,  it  is  ever  exposed,  demands 
constant,  persevering  energy  and  unremitting  vigilance. 
But  here  another  admirable  provision  of  our  nature 
comes  to  our  aid.  It  is  the  interest  which  attaches  to 
everything,  which  we  have  produced  by  much  labor 
and  care.  When,  by  earnest  effort,  we  have  built  up 
within  us  a  moral  structure,  and  by  careful  thought 
gradually  conformed  it  to  our  ideal  of  moral  harmony 
and  beauty,  we  acquire  that  interest  in  its  preservation, 
which  nerves  the  energies  and  stimulates  the  vigilance, 
which  are  needed  to  sustain  it  against  the  gusts  of  pas- 


CONCLUSION.  171 

sion,  or  the  wily  and  insidious  approaches  of  tempta 
tion.* 

The  provision  which  has  been  made  for  the  influ 
ence  of  our  wants  is,  in  this  connection,  not  unworthy 
of  note.  The  varied  observation  of  material  phenom 
ena,  or  the  flow  of  mental  perceptions  and  ideas,  may 
suggest  a  want,  but  this  essential  element  of  our  volun 
tary  activity  has  not  been  left  to  any  accidental  occur 
rences.  Such  occurrences  may  suggest,  or  provoke  our 
physical  wants,  and  present  the  occasions  for  their 
gratification ;  but,  without  any  such  provocation  and 
without  any  effort  of  our  own,  they  will,  through  sen 
sation,  recur  by  an  innate  constitutional  provision  of 
our  being.  And  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  to  doubt 
that,  by  means  of  the  moral  sense,  or  some  other  con 
stitutional  provision  of  our  moral  nature,  the  wants  with 
which  the  spiritual  being  is  innately  and  bountifully 
furnished,  also  recur  without  our  bidding,  and  that,  for 
these,  too,  God  has  amply  provided  suggestion  in  the 
external,  by  the  significant  beauty,  harmony  and  gran 
deur  of  His  own  works,  with  their  ever  varying  expres 
sion  appealing  to  the  soul  in  that  poetic  language  of  im 
agery  and  analogy,  which  is  intuitively  comprehended 
by  all,  and  on  all  exerts  its  persuasive  and  elevating 
influences.  For  no  one  capable  of  reflection  can  look 
upon  the  exquisite  models,  the  vast,  the  grand,  the 
beautiful,  the  perfect,  everywhere  presented  in  the  ex 
ternal  universe  and  not  feel  that  to  it  there  is  a  coun 
terpart  ;  that  there  is  something  which  perceives  and 
appreciates,  as  well  as  something  which  is  perceived  and 
appreciated  ;  that  within  his  own  being  there  is  an  in 
choate  universe  to  him  as  boundless,  and  which  is  his 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXVI. 


172  FKEEDOM   OF  MIND   IN   WILLING. 

especial  sphere  of  creative  action.  Here  is  opened  to 
his  efforts  an  infinity  of  space  in  which,  as  already- 
shown,  he  is  a  supreme  creative  first  cause,  a  sphere 
already  canopied  with  twinkling  thoughts,  dimly  reveal 
ing  the  chaotic  elements  requiring  his  efforts  to  reduce 
to  order  and  cultivate  into  beauty  ;  and  making  visible 
a  darkness,  which  continually  demands  from  him  the 
fiat,  " Let  there  T)e  light"  Constructing  this  universe 
writhin  is  the  great  object  of  existence,  the  principal,  if 
not  the  sole  end  of  life.  Happy  he  who,  faithfully 
working  in  the  seclusion  of  his  own  allotted  space,  so 
constructs  this  internal  universe,  that  when  from  the 
recent  void  it  breaks  upon  the  gaze  of  superior  intelli 
gences,  all  the  sons  of  God  will  shout  for  joy  ;  and  when 
the  appointed  days  of  his  work  are  completed,  the  Great 
Architect  shall  Himself  pronounce  it  GOOD. 


BOOK  II. 


REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 


BOOK    II. 


REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS   ON  THE   WILL. 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE  prominence  which  has  been  accorded  to  the 
work  of  Edwards  "  On  the  Will,"  marks  it  as  the  text 
for  our  comments  on  the  doctrines  of  the  necessarians. 
They  regard  it  as  the  great  bulwark  of  their  creed,  and 
confidently  assert  that  the  severest  scrutiny  of  their  op 
ponents  has  discovered  in  it  no  vulnerable  point.  The 
soundness  of  the  premises,  and  the  cogency  of  the  logic, 
by  which  he  reaches  his  conclusions,  seem  indeed  to  be 
very  generally  admitted,  so  that,  almost  by  common 
consent,  his  positions  are  deemed  impregnable,  and  the 
hope  of  subverting  them  by  direct  attack  abandoned. 

This  is  the  more  remarkable  as  he  wholly  fails  to 
convince  a  large  portion  of  his  readers,  who,  thus  un 
convinced  and  yet  unable  to  detect  the  fallacies  of  the 
argument,  come  to  regard  it  as  an  inexplicable  puzzle, 
and  rely  on  their  consciousness,  or  appeal  to  revelation, 
to  sanction  the  belief  in  their  own  free  agency. 

These  may  furnish  rational  grounds  for  belief,  but 


374:  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

avail  little  in  the  controversy.  The  first  is  merely  say 
ing,  I  know  because  I  know,  or  I  believe  because  I  be 
lieve  ;  and  both  '  parties,  with  equal  earnestness  and 
confidence,  claim  that  their  respective  views  are  con 
firmed  by  the  records  of  inspiration. 

In  a  conflict  between  the  dicta,  even  of  infallible 
authority,  and  an  apparently  conclusive  demonstration, 
we  can  only  infer,  either  that  there  is  error  in  the  dem 
onstration,  or  that  the  dicta  are  not  truly  interpreted. 
This  still  leaves  error,  on  the  one  hand  or  the  other,  to 
confuse  our  vision  and  obstruct  our  progress.  Discard 
ing  then  the  method  of  attempting  to  show  that  this 
"  iron-linked  and  irrefutable  argument,"  as  it  has  been 
termed,  is  unsound  because  its  conclusions  are  in  conflict 
with  beliefs  more  generally  accepted,  or  even  with 
demonstrated  truth,  I  shall  seek  to  point  out  the  par 
ticular  errors  and  fallacies  by  which  it  is  vitiated  and 
rendered  wholly  unavailing. 

Edwards's  argument  is  threefold.  First,  he  aims. to 
prove  that  the  mind  in  willing  cannot  determine  itself. 
Next,  that  in  willing  it  is  determined  or  controlled  by 
something  other  than  itself ;  and  then,  that,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  its  volitions  are  and  must  be  foreknown,  and 
therefore  necessitated. 

These  positions  seem  to  imply  an  admission  that 
self-control  is,  as  I  have  asserted,  the  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  free  action,  and  yet  Edwards  also  as 
sumes,  in  some  of  his  arguments,  that  if  the  will,  or  the 
mind  in  willing,  determines  or  controls  its  own  action, 
it  is  still  controlled,  and  hence  not  free.  Upon  this  false 
notion  of  freedom,  in  connection  with  his  definition  o& 
will,  and  the  assumption  (not  strictly  deducible  from  it) 
that  will  and  choice  are  the  same  thing,  a  large  portion 


INTRODUCTION.  175 

of  his  reasoning  on  the  first  two  named  points  is 
founded. 

Edwards  also  asserts  that  "  choic*  is  a  comparative 
act,"  and  argues  as  if  it  were  the  result  of  the  compara 
tive  act.  By  means  of  these  various  definitions  of  the 
one  word  choice,  he  can  argue  that  choice,  as  the  result 
of  a  comparison,  is  not  subject  to  our  control,  and  then, 
will  being  the  same  as  choice,  it  follows  that  will  is  not 
subject  to  such  control,  and  hence  is  not  free.  I  have 
endeavored  to  prove  that  choice  is  knowledge  and  not 
will,  and  thus  to  remove  this  fruitful  source  of  error  in 
Edward s's  argument.  He  also  on  these  points  treats 
events,  natural  laws,  habits,  motives,  &c.,  as  if  they 
were  real  independent  powers  causing  certain  effects. 
The  errors  of  these  views  I  have  sought  to  exhibit. 

The  assumed  axiom  that  the  same  causes  of  necessity 
produce  the  same  effects,  is  also  made  to  perform  an  im 
portant  part  in  Edwards's  system,  and  the  almost  uni 
versal  admission  of  this  dogma  has  tended  much  to  give 
currency  to  his  argument. 

I  have  attempted  to  show  that,  even  in  the  material 
world,  this  law  of  uniformity  is  not  one  of  necessity,  or 
even  of  universal  application,  while  in  regard  to  mind 
it  has  no  proper  application  whatever. 

For  the  proof  that  our  volitions  are  in  fact  necessi 
tated,  Edwards  relies  on  the  assumption  that  they  are 
and  must  be  foreknown  by  Omniscience.  In  doing  this, 
he  has,  in  my  view,  attributed  to  Omniscience  a  neces 
sity  which  could  only  be  predicated  of  a  being  of  very 
limited  powers,  and  the  argument,  resting  on  such  pre 
sumption,  is  invalid. 

Many  advocates  of  liberty  having  accepted  the  er 
roneous  definitions  and  unfounded  assumptions  of  the 


176  KEVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

necessarians,  most  of  which  appear  to  be  sustained 
by  the  authority  of  profound  investigators,  have,  by 
such  acceptance,  teen  forced  into  false  and  indefensible 
positions,  and  hence  their  cause  has  suffered  in  the  con 
flict. 

If  it  shall  be  found  that  the  system  I  have  elabo 
rated  dispels  the  difficulties  and  surmounts  the  obstacles 
presented  by  the  necessarians,  and  that  the  logical  con 
clusions  are  thus  brought  into  harmony  with  the  com 
mon  sense  and  the  almost  universal  convictions  of  man 
kind,  such  result  will  in  turn  tend  to  confirm  the  views 
I  have  advanced  in  the  direct  argument  in  proof  of 
liberty.  Among  these  I  would  particularly  note,  as 
useful  in  the  discussion  upon  which  we  are  about  to 
enter,  the  definitions  of  Will  and  of  Liberty ;  the  re 
marks  in  regard  to  Cause  ;  the  nature  and  influence  of 
Habit ;  the  position  that  knowledge  in  the  last  analysis 
is  always  a  simple  passive  perception  of  the  mind ;  that 
the  mind  directs  its  action  by  means  of  its  knowledge, 
and  finds  the  reason  for  it,  not  in  the  past,  but  in  the 
preconception  of  the  effects  of  its  effort  in  the  future. 

By  this  last  position  the  past  is  cut  off  from  present 
action,  and  is  in  no  wise  connected  with  it,  except  as 
the  mind  may  in  the  past  have  acquired  the  knowledge 
which  enables  it  to  form  more  accurate  preconceptions 
of  the  future  effects  of  various  efforts,  and  more  wisely 
to  select  among  them,  and  among  the  various  modes  of 
producing  the  desired  result. 

All  these  were  more  or  less  important  to  the  reason 
ing  in  proof  of  liberty,  and  I  trust  will  now  be  found 
efficacious  in  refuting  the  arguments  which  are  adduced 
against  it. 


CHAPTEE   I. 

EDWAKDS'S     DEFINITION     OF     WILL. 

EDWAKDS  defines  Will  to  be  "  that  by  which  the 
mind  chooses  anything,"  and  adds,  "  The  faculty  of  the 
will  is  that  faculty,  or  power,  or  principle  of  mind,  by 
which  it  is  capable  of  choosing  :  an  act  of  the  will  is  the 
same  as  an  act  of  choosing  or  choice"  (Part  I.  Sec.  1, 
p.  !.)« 

He  also  identifies  volition  with  choice  and  preference, 
and  willing,  with  choosing  and  preferring.  Alluding  to 
a  distinction  made  by  Locke,  he  says,  "  But  the  instance 
he  mentions  does  not  prove  that  there  is  anything  else  in 
willing  but  merely  preferring"  (Sec.  1,  p.  2.)  "And 
his  willing  such  an  alteration  in  his  body  in 'the  present 
moment,  is  nothing  else  but  his  choosing,  or  preferring 
such  an  alteration  in  his  body  at  such  a  moment,  or  his 
liking  it  better  than  the  forbearance  of  it."  *  *  *  * 
"  It  will  not  appear  by  this,  and  such  like  instances, 
that  there  is  any  difference  between  volition  and  prefer 
ence."  (Sec.  1,  p.  3.) 

This  definition  with  its  explanation  seems  to  admit 
of  various  constructions.  From  the  definition  itself  it 
might  appear  that  the  will  is  a  distinct  entity,  which 

*  The  quotations  are  from  the  edition  of  Edwards's  work  on   the 
'Freedom  of  Will,"  published  in  Albany,  A.  D.,  1804. 


178       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

the  mind  uses  as  an  instrument  with  which  to  choose, 
or  when  it  makes  a  choice  ;  or  that  the  mind's-  act  of 
will  is  a  cause  of  which  its  choice  is  an  effect.  The  ex 
planations,  however,  seem  to  indicate  that  the  definition 
is  only  intended  to  assert  that  the  act  of  will  and  the 
choosing  or  choice  are  one  and  the  same  act  of  the  mind. 
The  instances  in  which  he  thus  uses  these  terms  as 
equivalent  are  very  numerous,  and  he  expressly  says, 
"  to  will  and  to  choose  are  the  same  thing."  (Parti. 
Sec.  7,  p.  91.)  It  is  not,  however,  clear  whether  in  Ed 
wards' s  view  the  act  of  will  embraces  the  process  of 
choosing,  or  is  concentrated  in  the  choice,  which  is  the 
result  of  the'  process.  When  he  says,  "  An  act  of  choice 
or  preference  is  a  comparative  act,  wherein  the  mind 
acts  in  reference  to  two  or  more  things,  that  are  com 
pared  and  stand  in  competition  in  the  mind's  view," 
(Part  II.  Sec.  10,  p.  119,)  he  states  the  process  and  makes 
it  the  act  of  choice,  or  the  act  of  will.  It  is  BY  this  pro 
cess — this  comparing — that  the  mind  chooses,  and  hence 
his  definition  of  will  also,  in  terms,  embraces  it.  On 
the  other  hand  it  is  obvious  that  the  object,  or  intent 
of  this  comparative  act,  is  always  to  obtain  knowledge 
as  to  the  merits  of  the  things  compared,  and  that,  to 
this  end,  the  mind  must  come  to  a  conclusion,  a  decision, 
or  judgment  as  to  these  things,  otherwise  the  compara 
tive  act  ends  in  nothing,  leaving  the  mind  as  it  began 
it,  and  there  can  then  be  no  choice.  Hence  the  com 
paring  is  not  itself  the  choice,  nor  the  act  of  comparing, 
the  act  of  choice,  for  there  may  be  110  choice  in  any  way 
connected  with  such  comparing.  That  the  comparative 
act  is  separable  from,  and  distinct  from  choice,  is  further 
manifest  from  the  consideration,  that,  when  the  object 
of  comparison  is  merely  to  obtain  knowledge,  as  when  I 


EDWAKDS'S  DEFINITION   OF   WILL.  179 

compare  two  triangles  to  ascertain  which  is  the  greater, 
although  there  is  comparison  and  a  final  decision  or 
judgment,  there  is  no  choice.  Some  other  element  is 
yet  required.  If  on  comparing  their  merits  as  food,  I 
find  beef  superior  to  veal,  and  yet  neither  now  want 
food,  nor  want  to  provide  against  hunger  in  the  future, 
I  do  not  choose  beef.  The  whole  process  as  completely 
ends  with  the  knowledge,  as  in  the  case  of  comparing 
the  triangles.  If,  however,  I  want  food  for  present  or 
future  use,  I  choose  beef.  Choice  then  is  knowledge 
with  a  co-existing  want  to  which  it  has  a  certain  rela 
tion.  It  is  that  condition  of  the  mind,  in  which,  with 
a  want,  it  has  found  and  knows  which  of  two  or  more 
things  is  best  adapted  to  its  want. 

These  considerations  serve  to  show  that  the  com 
parative  act  is  not  the  choice  ;  and  such  an  hypothesis  is 
contrary  to  other  of  Edwards's  statements.  In  distin 
guishing  the  understanding  and  will,  he  classes  all  the 
knowing  abilities  with  the  former,  and  says,  "  In 
some  sense  the  will  always  follows  the  last  dictate  of 
the  understanding,"  &c.  (Part  I.  Sec.  2,  p.  16.)  If  will 
and  choice  are  identical,  this  is  to  say  that  choice  fol 
lows  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding.  The  object 
of  the  comparative  act  being  to  obtain  knowledge,  it  is 
obvious  that  choice,  if  it  be  not  itself  the  last  dictate  of 
the  understanding,  but  something  that  follows  the  last 
dictate,  must  come  "  after  the  comparison*  and  hence 
cannot  itself  be  the  comparison,  or  the  act  of  comparing, 
and  the  assertion  of  Edwards  that  "  choice  is  a  com 
parative  act,"  is  incompatible  with  his  assertion  that  it 
follows  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding. 

The  mind's  comparative  act  is  obviously  always  an 
act  of  will.  It  is  always  its  effort,  or  act  of  will  to  ob- 


180       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

tain  knowledge  as  to  the  things  compared ;  and  if  the 
comparative  act  is  not  itself  an  act  of  choice,  here  is  an 
act  of  will,  which  is  not  an  act  of  choice,  but  is  a  pre 
liminary  act,  from  which  choice  may  or  may  not  re 
sult.  Choice  being  but  the  perception,  the  knowledge, 
that  one  thing  is  superior  to  another,  never  is  an  act 
any  more  than  the  knowledge  that  2+2=4  is  an  act. 
The  end  sought  by  this  effort,  or  act  of  will,  sometimes, 
and  only  sometimes,  is  selection,  or  choice ;  and  even 
then,  to  make  the  act  of  will  itself  the  choice,  confounds 
the  act  with  its  object.  That  the  comparative  act,  made 
for  the  purpose  of  choosing,  is  an  act  of  will,  sustains 
Edwards's  assertion  that,  "  the  will  is  that  by  which  the 
mind  chooses"  but  makes  it  futile  as  a  definition  ;  for 
it  thus  chooses  only  in  the  same  sense  as  it  does  any 
other  thing.  It  is  by  the  mind's  effort,  or  act  of  will, 
that  we  remember,  or  move  our  hand ;  and  hence,  in 
this  view,  it  would  be  as  pertinent  to  say,  the  will  is 
that  by  which  the  mind  remembers,  or  by  which  it 
moves  the  hand,  as  to  say  it  is  that  by  which  it  chooses. 
This  shows  that,  though  in  this  view  it  may  be  true  that 
the  mind,  in  its  act  of  will, — using  will  as  an  instru 
ment,  or  otherwise, — is  a  cause  of  which  choice  is  some 
times  an  effect,  yet,  with  such  construction,  Edwards's 
definition  is  wholly  unavailing. 

It  may  be  said  that  in  every  act  of  will,  or  effort  to 
compare,  or  to  remember,  or  to  do  anything  else,  there 
is  a  choice  of  that  act.  But  this  must  be  an  antecedent 
choice  ;  and  the  act  of  will,  in  comparing  or  in  remem 
bering,  cannot  itself  be  the  choice,  which  preceded  it, 
but  is  the  object  or  thing  chosen.  If  it  be  said  that  the 
choosing  to  compare  or  to  remember,  is  itself  the  act 
of  will,  it  brings  us  to  the  remaining  construction  of 


EDWAKDS'S   DEFINITION   OF  WILL.  181 

Edwards's  definition,  and  raises  the  question  as  to 
whether  the  act  of  choice  and  the  act  of  will,  or  choos 
ing  and  willing,  are  one  and  the  same. 

Every  choice  must  be  preceded  by  a  comparison  ; 
and  if  this  comparison  is  a  comparative  act  of  the  mind, 
it  is  an  act  of  will,  and  if  will  is  the  same  as  choice,  this 
comparative  act  is  itself  a  choice,  which  also  must  have 
been  preceded  by  a  comparative  act,  which  again  is  a 
choice,  which  also  must  have  been  preceded  by  a  com 
parative  act,  and  so  on,  ad  infinitum,  involving  the  ab 
surdity,  which  Edwards  so  often  charges  on  his  oppo 
nents,  of  a  series  of  acts  of  will,  or  choice,  to  which 
there  could  be  no  first  act.  If  then  in  saying  that,  "  an 
act  of  choice  is  a  comparative  act  wherein  the  mind  acts 
in  reference  to  two  or  more  things  compared,"  &c.,  he 
means  that  there  is  only  one  act  of  the  mind,  that  of 
comparing,  and  that  this  is  itself  the  act  of  choice,  the 
statement  is  manifestly  incorrect  and  contradictory  to 
other  of  his  own  statements  ;  and  if  he  means  that  "  the 
mind's  act  in  reference  to  the  two  or  more  things  that 
are  compared,"  &c.  is  another  act  distinct  from  the  act 
of  comparing,  of  which  it  is  a  result,  and  that  this  is  the 
mind's  act  of  choice,  then,  as  this  act  of  choice  requires 
a  prior  act  of  comparison,  which  prior  act  is  an  act  of 
will,  and,  of  course,  in  his  system,  also  an  act  of  choice, 
it  must  require  a  prior  act  of  comparison,  and  so  on,  ad 
infinitum,  involving  the  absurdity  before  mentioned. 

To  avoid  this  difficulty  of  action  in  a  finite  being, 
without  the  possibility  of  any  first  act,  which  is  thus 
involved  in  Edwards's  definitions,  and  grows  imme 
diately  out  of  using  choice,  in  the  popular  sense,  as  the 
result  of  ^a  comparison,  and  also  as  a  synonym  for  will, 
it  may  be  said,  that  though  choice  implies  comparison, 


182  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

such  comparison  is  not  of  necessity  a  comparative  act ; 
but  that  the  comparison,  and  its  resulting  choice,  may 
be  immediately  perceived  and  apprehended  by  the 
mind,  without  any  previous  effort,  or  act  of  will.  Such 
hypothesis  is  not  only  quite  conceivable,  but  seems  to 
be  in  harmony  with  what  I  have  asserted  in  Book  1st, 
as  to  the  mind's  sense  of  knowing  by  simple  mental  per 
ception,  without  effort  or  act  of  will.  But,  Edwards 
says,  "  An  act  of  choice  or  preference,  is  a  comparative 
act  wherein  the  mind  acts  ; "  and  though  the  mind  may 
passively  be  the  subject  of  sensation  and  emotion,  or 
the  recipient  of  knowledge,  it  cannot  be  passive  in  its 
own  act.  Supposing,  however,  that  calling  the  com 
parison  an  act  is  an  inadvertence  or  error,  and  that, 
without  any  action,  the  mind  may  passively  perceive 
the  relative  merits  of  the  things  in  themselves,  and  thus 
arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  their  equality,  or  inequality ; 
or  may  thus  perceive,  or  apprehend  the  superior  adap 
tation  of  one  of  the  things  compared,  to  its  want,  and 
thus  passively  reach  a  choice,  still  such  choice  is  then 
admitted  to  be  a  perception,  and  not  an  act  of  the 
mind,  and  hence  cannot  be  the  mind's  act  of  will;  it 
can  only  be  knowledge,  or,  at  most,  knowledge  com 
bined  with  feeling,  which  would  still  prove  that  choice 
and  will  are  not  the  same.  Edwards,  however,  denies 
that  the  mind  can  thus  passively  decide  as  to  the  things 
compared.  To  show  this,  I  quote  one  of  his  own  argu 
ments,  changing  the  word  volition  to  choice,  which  he 
uses  as  its  synonym.  "  To  say  the*  faculty,  or  the  soul 
determines  its  own  choice,  but  not  by  any  act,  is  a  con 
tradiction.  Because  for  the  soul  to  direct,  decide,  or  de 
termine  anything,  is  to  act ;  and  this  is  supposed ;  for 
the  soul  is  here  spoken  of  as  being  a  cause  in  this  affair, 


EDWARDS'S  DEFINITION   OF   WILL.  183 

bringing  something  to  pass,  or  doing  something ;  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  exerting  itself  in  order  to  an 
effect,  which  effect  is  the  determination  of  choice,  or  the 
particular  kind  and  manner  of  an  act  of  will.  But 
certainly  this  exertion  or  action  is  not  the  same  with 
the  effect,  in  order  to  the  production  of  which  it  is  ex 
erted,  but  must  be  something  prior  to  it."  (Part  II. 
Sec.  2,  p.  48.)  The  last  sentence  also  seems  to  lead 
directly  to  the  conclusion  that,  "  the  comparative  act " 
is  not  the  "  act  of  choice,"  but  must  be  prior  to  it,  which 
confirms  the  position  I  have  just  taken  in  regard  to  the 
quotation  that  "  an  act  of  choice  is  a  comparative  act," 
&Q.  -After  this,  however,  he  says,  "  Volition  in  this 
case,  is  a  comparative  ACT  attending  and  following  a 
comparative  view."  (Part  II.  Sec.  10,  p.  120.)  The 
comparison  may  be  an  act  of  will,  and  the  choice  is 
sometimes  a  result  of  such  an  act.  It  is  manifest  that 
every  act  of  comparison  does  not  result  in  a  choice,  or 
in  a  subsequent  act  of  will ;  and  Edwards,  though  he 
does  not  specifically  distinguish  between  those  which 
do  and  those  which  do  not,  has  probably  indicated  the 
kinds  of  cases  he  had  in  view  as  the  ground  of  his 
definitions,  in  this  statement : — "  yet  I  trust  it  will  be 
allowed  by  all,  that  in  every  act  of  will  there  is  an  act 
of  choice ;  that  in  every  volition  there  is  a  preference, 
or  a  prevailing  inclination  of  the  soul,  whereby  the  soul, 
at  that  instant,  is  out  of  a  state  of  perfect  indifference, 
with  respect  to  the  direct  object  of  the  volition.  So 
that  in  every  act,  or  going  forth  of  the  will,  there  is 
some  preponderation  of  the  mind,  or  inclination,  one 
way  rather  than  another ;  and  the  soul  had  rather 
have,  or  do  one  thing  than  another,  or  than  not  to  have, 
or  do  that  thing ;  and  that  then,  where  there  is  abso- 


184:       REVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

lutely  no  preferring,  or  choosing,  but  a  perfect  continu 
ing  equilibrium,  there  is  no  volition."  (Part  I.  Sec.  1, 
pp.  5,  6.)  Here  the  condition  of  every  act  of  will  is  an 
act  of  comparison,  resulting  in  the  mind's  preferring,  or 
choosing  to  "  have,  or  do  one  thing  rather  than  another, 
or  not  to  have,  or  do  that  thing." 

In  making  an  act  of  choice  the  same  as  an  act  of 
will,  Edwards,  of  course,  makes  the  choice  the  last  act 
of  the  mind  in  relation  to  the  effect,  or  the  change  it 
seeks  to  produce.  '  He  thus  expressly  asserts  this : 
"  And  God  has  so  made  and  established  the  human 
nature,  the  soul  being  united  to  a  body  in  proper  state, 
that  the  soul  preferring  or  choosing  such  an  immediate 
exertion,  or  alteration  of  the  body,  such  an  alteration 
instantaneously  follows."  (Part  I.  Sec.  1,  p.  3.) 

Our  immediate  object  or  intent  in  every  act  of  will 
is  to  effect  change  in  some  portion  of  our  own  being. 
The  above  quotation  relates  to  and  asserts  this  only  of 
bodily  movement ;  in  other  places  this  truth  is  recog 
nized  with  -regard  to  mental  action  also.  The  act  of 
choice  then,  in  Edwards's  system,  as  the  act  of  will,  is 
our  last  act  or  agency  in  producing  an  effect,  or  in 
doing  anything ;  and,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned,  our 
act  of  will  is  the  doing  of  that  thing. 

The  cases  in  which,  as  already  quoted,  Edwards 
makes  the  preferring,  or  choosing,  when  the  soul  "  had 
rather  have,  or  do"  &c.  are  distinguishable. 

"When  I  prefer  or  would  rather  have  one  thing  than 
another  thing,  I  have,  on  comparison,  decided  or  judg 
ed,  i.  e.  come  to  the  knowledge  that  the  one  thing  is 
better  adapted  to  my  want  than  the  other  ;  and  when  I 
would  rather  have  this  one  thing  than  not  to  have  it,  I 
have,  on  comparing  the  having  with  not  having,  de- 


185 

cided  or  judged,  that  the  advantages  of  having  are 
greater  than  of  not  having,  and  that,  as  between  mere 
having  and  not  having,  I  would  rather  have.  So  far  I 
choose  to  have,  and,  if  choice  were  my  last  agency  in 
the  matter,  then,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  would  im 
mediately  have.  But  it  is  obvious  that  to  have,  I  may 
still  be  obliged  to  do.  The  comparing  the  having  with 
not  having  is  itself  the  mind's  effort  or  act  of  will,  but 
is  not  itself  a  choice.  And  the  choice,  when  reached  as 
a  result  of  comparing,  has  none  of  the  characteristics 
of  an  act  of  will.  It  is  not  that  last  agency  which  is 
immediately  followed  by  the  effect ;  and  this  choosing 
to  have  does  not  immediately  move,  or  change  any  por 
tion  of  our  being.  The  choice  to  have  is  not  imme 
diately  followed  by  our  having,  or  even  by  our  trying 
to  have,  or  doing  anything  to  have.  As  in  other  cases, 
in  the  act  of  comparing  the  having  with  the  not  having, 
we  have  an  act  of  will  which  is  not  a  choice ;  and,  in 
the  result  of  the  comparison,  we  have  a  choice,  which 
is  not  an  act  of  will.  To  extend  the  choice  to  the  cor 
responding  effect,  we  must  do.  And  if  we  do  not  know 
how  to  produce  that  effect,  our  first  doing  may  be  to 
examine  and  find  how  to  do  it.  That  to  thus  examine 
is  the  mode  in  such  cases,  I  have  before  suggested  is 
intuitively  known,  and  thus  becomes  a  primary  founda 
tion  of  action.  But  if,  as  to  the  manner  of  doing,  we 
already  have  sufficient  intuitive,  or  habitual  knowl 
edge,  the  preliminary  examination  may  not  be  resorted 
to,  and,  in  that  case,  the  act  to  be  done  is  not,  as  com 
pared  with  other  acts,  the  subject  of  choice,  and  we 
come  directly  to  the  question,  whether,  in  view  of  the 
advantages  of  having,  and  of  any  pain  or  other  ex 
pected  consequence  of  the  doing,  we  will  choose  to  do. 


186  KEVIEW    OF    EDWAKDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

The  thing  may  be  preferred  to  any  other  thing,  and  we 
may  have  chosen  to  have  rather  than  not  have  it,  and 
know  what  to  do  in  order  to  have,  and  yet,  for  good 
reasons,  we  may  still  decide,  or  choose,  not  to  do.  The 
comparison  is  now  between  doing  and  not  doing,  with 
the  advantages  of  the  results  of  doing — the  having — on 
the  one  hand,  contrasted  with  any  pain  or  unpleasant 
ness  attending  the  doing,  on  the  other.  The  question, 
as  to  whether  choice  in  any  case  is  an  act  of  will,  is  now 
narrowed  down  to  the  case  of  choosing  between  doing 
and  not  doing.  This  is  really  the  same  case  as  that  of 
the  mind's  deciding  between  acting  and  not  acting,  to 
which  I  have  alluded  (Book  I.  p.  69),  as  the  result  of  a 
preliminary  act  to  obtain  knowledge,  preceding  the 
mind's  final  act  of  will,  and  liable  to  be  confounded 
with  it  ;  and,  in  conformity  to  what  was  then  argued, 
I  will  here  observe  that,  if  the  choice  between  doing  and 
not  doing  is  the  last  act  of  the  mind  prior  to  the  effect 
or  end  sought,  then  the  choosing  to  do  concludes  our 
agency  in  the  matter  as  completely  as  would  choosing 
not  to  do,  and  that,  if  so,  there  can  be  no  difference 
between  that  condition  of  mind  which  succeeds  a  choice 
to  do  and  a  choice  not  to  do,  which  is  contrary  to  ob 
served  fact.  The  act  of  will,  by  which  we  compare  one 
contemplated  action  with  another  or  with  non-action, 
is  not  itself  that  contemplated  action,  but  is  a  pre 
liminary  effort  to  obtain  knowledge  in  reference  to 
such  contemplated  action  or  non-action.  When  we 
choose  to  have,  our  choice  may  be  realized  by  some 
other  agency  than  our  own,  though  on  such  agency 
our  mere  choosing,  not  externally  manifested,  can 
have  no  influence ;  but,  when  we  will  to  do,  or  to  try 
to  do,  we  must  ourselves  be  the  agent ;  and  when,  in 


187 

such  a  case,  we  choose  the  doing,  rather  than  the  not 
doing,  if  our  choice,  as  the  last  agency  of  the  mind,  is 
itself  the  doing,  then  the  choice  and  the  thing  chosen 
are  one  and  the  'same,  which  is  absurd.  This  makes  it 
evident  that,  as  the  choosing  an  apple  among  various 
fruits  is  not  itself  the  apple,  or  the  choosing  an  act 
among  various  acts  is  not  itself  the  act,  so  choosing  a 
doing  is  not  itself  the  doing ;  and  hence  even  the  choice 
to  do,  that  choice  which  most  nearly  approaches  the 
effect,  never  reaches  the  doing,  or  trying  to  do ;  but 
that  that  action,  that  effort  or  energy  by  which  the 
mind  accomplishes  or  executes  its  decision,  judgments, 
preferences,  choices,  &c.,  comes  between  these  decisions, 
&c.,  and  the  effect,  and,  of  course,  is  something  distinct 
from  the  choice ;  and,  if  we  look  a  little  beyond  the 
choice  to  do  to  the  act  of  will,  which  is  the  trying  to  do, 
and  which  when  successful,  always  moves  some  portion 
of  our  own  being,  we  iind  that,  as  to  this  moving,  we 
know,  and  can  know,  only  one  mode  of  doing  it,  and 
that  is  by  willing  it ;  so  that  in  this,  the  peculiar  and 
exclusive  province  of  the  will,  there  is  neither  occasion, 
opportunity,  or  possibility  of  any  choice.  It  may  fur 
ther  be  observed,  as  at  least  conceivable,  that,  in  s^rne 
cases,  the  question  of  doing,  or  not  doing,  may  be  so 
settled,  either  intuitively  or  habitually,  that  no  com 
parison  is  needed ;  and  in  this  case,  we  proceed  to  the 
doing  without  comparing  it  with  not  doing,  or  choosing 
between  them.  If,  as  just  suggested,  the  particular  act 
to  be -done,  or  not  done,  has  been  in  like  manner  intui 
tively  or  habitually  settled,  then  the  action  follows  the 
choice  of  the  effect  to  be  produced  without  any  subse 
quent  choice ;  and  the  choice  of  an  effect  requiring  an 


188       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

intermediate  act,  cannot  itself  be  that  intermediate  act, 
i.  e.  the  choosing  is  not  the  willing. 

As  already  intimated,  one  objection  to  using  the' 
word  choice  as  will,  and,  also,  as  an  act,  or  the  result 
of  an  act  of  comparison,  is  that  it  confounds  the  under 
standing  and  the  will ;  or  knowledge,  and  we  may  add, 
feeling,  with  effort.  In  applying  some  of  the  numerous 
terms  and  phrases,  which  Edwards  uses  as  equivalents 
for  choice,  this  becomes  more  apparent.  For  instance, 
"  So  that,  whatever  names  we  call  the  act  of  the  will  by, 
choosing,  refusing,  approving,  disapproving,  liking,  dis 
liking,  embracing,  rejecting,  determining,  directing, 
commanding,  forbidding,  inclining,  or  being  averse,  a 
being  pleased,  or  displeased  with  ;  all  may  be  reduced 
to  this  of  choosing."  (Part  I.  Sec.  1,  p.  2.)  To  use  the 
one  term  choosing  for  "  commanding,"  or  "  forbidding," 
and  also  for  "  being  pleased,  or  displeased  with,"  is 
giving  a  wide  range  to  a  word  intended  to  be  applied 
with  philosophical  accuracy.  Our  "  being  pleased,  or 
displeased  with,"  may  perhaps  be  the  same  as  choosing, 
but  cannot  be  an  act  of  will  any  more  than  our  hearing 
the  sound  of  a  cannon  is  an  act  of  will.  The  pleasure, 
or  displeasure,  and  the  sound,  are  all  perceptions,  emo 
tions,  or  sensations,  and  not  acts  of  will,  or  even  sub 
ject  to  the  mind's  control  by  its  acts  of  will. 

The  equality  or  superiority  of  one  thing,  as  com 
pared  with  another,  is  a  fact  found,  not  made,  or  done. 
It  is  apprehended  or  perceived,  not  willed  ;  and  hence, 
such  final  result  of  a  comparison  is  not  an  act  of-  will, 
but  knowledge  acquired,  at  least  in  most  cases,  by  an 
act  of  will.  And  choice  is  but  the  final  result  of  a  com 
parison  in  which  the  mind  has  found  or  come  to  know 
the  fact,  that  one  thing,  in  its  adaptation  to  a  personal 


EDWAKDS'S   DEFINITION  OF  WILL  189 

want,  is  superior  to  some  other.  It  too  is  a  fact  found, 
not  made  or  done,  and  it  too  is  knowledge  and  not  will, 
nor  an  act  of  will.  The  essential  element  of  choice  is 
that  result  of  a  comparison  which  is  a  decision  or  judg 
ment  that  one  thing  suits  us  better  than  another  ;  which 
decision  or  judgment,  in  all  its  degrees  of  certainty  or 
probability,  is  a  perception  and  not  an  effort.  It  is  in 
the  sphere  of  knowledge  and  not  of  will.  We  cannot 
by  an  act  of  will  directly  choose,  or  alter  our  choice. 
When  we  speak  of  making  a  choice,  we  allude  to  the 
act  of  will  by  which  we  compare  to  ascertain  which  is 
best  adapted  to  our  want, — which  suits  us  best, — and 
finding  this  is  said  to  be  making  our  choice.  In  com 
paring,  the  mind  is  active ;  but  in  the  final  result,  the 
perception  that  one  thing  is  greater  than  another,  as 
that  the  whole  is  greater  than  its  part,  or  that  one  thing 
is  better  adapted  to  our  want  than  another,  making,  in 
the  latter  case,  our  choice,  the  mind  is  passive,  as  much 
so  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  others,  and  can  no  more  alter 
the  one  by  a  mere  act  of  will,  than  it  can  the '  other. 
So  too,  we  can  as  freely  will  that  mental  action  by 
which  we  compare,  as  that  muscular  action  by  which 
we  seek  to  move  a  heavy  weight ;  but  cannot,  in  either 
case,  by  willing  determine  the  result.  This  using  as  a 
synonym  for  will,  the  term  choice,  which  means  knowl 
edge,  of  a  particular  kind,  opens  the  way  for  various 
forms  of  the  sophism  that,  as  will  is  choice,  and  choice 
is  knowledge,  and  the  mind  cannot  control  its  knowl 
edge,  i.  e.  cannot  vary  the  facts  or  truths  it  finds,  il 
cannot  control  or  determine  its  will,  because  it,  being 
choice,  is  also  knowledge.  This  is  perhaps  even  more 
clear  in  that  other  expression  for  the  act  of  will  and  of 
choosing,  "  a  being  pleased,  or  displeased  with,"  already 


190  REVIEW   OF   EDWAEDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

alluded  to ;  and  also  in  that  similar  expression,  "  ap 
pearing  most  agreeable,  or  pleasing  to  the  mind,"  which 
Edwards  thus  fully  identifies  with  choice : — "  I  have 
rather  chosen  to  express  myself  thus,  that  the  will  al 
ways  is  as  the  greatest  apparent  good.,  or,  as  what  ap 
pears  most  agreeable,  is,  than  to  say  that  the  will  is 
determined  ~by  the  greatest  apparent  good,  or  by  what 
seems  most  agreeable ;  because  an  appearing  most 
agreeable  or  pleasing  to  the  mind,  and  the  mind's  pre 
ferring  and  choosing,  seem  hardly  to  be  properly  and 
perfectly  distinct.  If  strict  propriety  of  speech  be  in 
sisted  on}  it  may  more  properly  be  said,  that  the  volun 
tary  action  which  is  the  immediate  consequence  and 
fruit  of  the  mind's  volition  or  choice,  is  determined  by 
that  which  appears  most  agreeable,  than  that  the 
preference  or  choice  itself  is."  (Part  I.  Sec.  1,  p.  11.) 
This  directly  asserts  that  the  voluntary  action  is  the 
immediate  consequence  of  the  mind's  volition,  or 
choice.  It  also,  less  directly,  identifies  an  appearing 
most  agreeable  to  the  mind  with  choice  ;  -hence  making 
"  this  appearing  most  agreeable  "  the  determiner,  and 
also  the  immediate  antecedent  of  the  "voluntary  ac 
tion  ; "  and,  in  harmony  with  this,  in  the  concluding 
sentence,  refers  the  act  of  volition  (choice)  and  the 
appearing  most  agreeable  to  the  same  cause — to  that 
"  which  causes  it  to  appear  most  agreeable."  But 
this  appearing  most  agreeable  to  the  mind,  and,  of 
course,  that  choice,  or  preference,  which  is  identified 
with  it,  is  not,  as  Edwards  assumes,  the  mind's  act  of 
will,  but  its  perception,  which  is  knowledge,  or,  in  this 
case,  knowledge  combined  with  sensation  or  emotion. 
The  mind,  after  having  by  the  comparison  come  to 
know  what  is  most  agreeable,  may  passively  enjoy  the 


191 

"  appearing  most  agreeable,"  without  any  act  of  will. 
Now  it  is  evident  that  the  mind  by  its  own  action  can 
not  control  this  "  being  pleased,  or  displeased  with," 
nor  this  "  appearing  most  agreeable  to  the  mind,"  and, 
if  these  are  the  same  as  choosing,  and  choosing  is  the 
same  as  an  act  of  will,  then  the  mind  cannot  control  its 
act  of  will.  If  these  terms  and  phrases  are  really  syn 
onymous,  then  by  substituting  equivalents,  we  may  de 
duce  from  the  simple  expression,  a  man's  willing  is  as 
he  wills,  that,  his  being  pleased  is  as  he  wills,  and  other 
like  erroneous  consequences. 

It  might  however  still  be  urged  that  this  making 
the  act  of  choice  or  choosing,  itself  the  act  of  will,  does 
not  conflict  with  the  mind's  freedom  in  willing  ;  for  if, 
as  Edwards  says,  "  For  the  soul  to  act  voluntarily  is 
evermore  to  act  eleetively  /  "  and  if,  in  electing  and 
choosing  its  act,  it  directs  and  determines  its  own  act, 
it  is  then  free  in  such  action  ;  for  this  directing  its  own 
action  is  the  very  essence  of  freedom.  Still  to  this,  un 
der  Edwards's  definition,  it  might  be  replied,  that  the 
choosing  is  not  selecting  an  act,  but  is  itself  the  act, 
and  as  such  is  the  last  agency  of  the  mind,  and  that, 
after  this,  there  is  no  act  for  it  to  do ;  and  hence,  the 
mind's  liberty  to  direct  its  action,  as  above  stated,  be 
gins  just  when  there  is  no  action  to  direct,  and  amounts 
to  nothing. 

In  thus  shutting  out  the  effort,  which  I  suppose  to 
follow  our  choice  of  the  modes  of  doing,  or  our  choice  to 
do  rather  than  not  to  do,  and  to  constitute  the  doing, 
Edwards  consistently  asserts  that  our  only  freedom  con 
sists  in  producing  the  effect  we  choose  to  produce. 
But  as  he  makes  choice  the  last  agency  of  the  mind  in 
producing  this  effect,  this  is  to  say  that,  whenever 


192  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE    WILL. 

choice  is  followed  by  the  effect  chosen,  the  mind,  in  its 
action,  is  free  ;  and,  when  our  choice  is  not  so  followed, 
the  mind's  action  is  not  free ;  thus  making  a  subsequent 
event  change,  or  make  an  existence  in  the  past,  which 
is  absurd. 

In  making  choice  and  preference  and  their  equiva 
lents  identical  with  will,  Edwards  immediately  encoun 
ters  some  of  the  difficulties  to  which  I  have  alluded  ;  and 
among  the  first,  that  of  there  being  preliminary  acts  of 
comparing,  resulting  in  choices  or  preferences,  which 
have  no  tendency  to  move  mind  or  body,  which  is 
always  the  characteristic  of  an  act  of  will,  as  recognized 
by  himself ;  and,  if  any  one  doubts  it,  he  can  easily  sat 
isfy  himself  by  seeking  to  produce  some  effect,  without 
commencing  with  some  change  in  his  own  being.  Al 
luding  to  a  statement  of  Locke,  that  "  the  word  prefer 
ring  seems  best  to  express  the  act  of  volition,"  but 
that  "  it  does  it  not  precisely  ;  for,"  says  he,  "  though 
a  man  may  prefer  flying  to  walking,  yet  who  can  say 
he  ever  wills  it  ? "  Edwards  remarks,  "  But  the  instance 
he  mentions  does  not  prove  that  there  is  anything  else 
in  willing,  but  merely  preferring  ;  for  it  should  be  con 
sidered  what  is  the  next  and  immediate  object  of  the 
will,  with  respect  to  a  man's  walking,  or  any  other  ex 
ternal  action ;  which  is  not  being  removed  from  one 
place  to  another,  on  the  earth,  or  through  the  air  ;  these 
are  remoter  objects ~of  preference •;  but  such  or  such 
an  immediate  exertion  of  himself.  The  thing  nextly 
chosen  or  preferred  when  a  man  wills  to  walk,  is  not  his 
being  removed  to  such  a  place  where  he  would  be,  but 
such  an  exertion  and  motion  of  his  legs  and  feet,  &c.,  in 
order  to  it.  And  his  willing  such  an  alteration  in 
his  body  in  the  pr'esent  moment,  is  nothing  else  but 


EDWAEDS'S   DEFINITION   OF  WILL. 


his  choosing  or  preferring  an  alteration  in  his  body  at 
such  a  moment,  or  his  liking  it  better  than  the  for 
bearance  of  it."  (Part  I.  Sec.  1,  pp.  2,  3.)  But,  from 
this  statement,  it  appears  that,  before  the  man  'had 
"  chosen,  or  preferred  such  an  exertion  and  motion  of 
his  legs  and  feet,"  he  had  already  chosen  or  preferred 
to  be  moved  to  another  place ;  and,  if  choice  or  pref 
erence  is  the  same  as  will,  he  must,  at  the  same  time, 
have  willed  to  be  moved  to  that  other  place ;  but,  in 
stead  of  this,  Edwards  asserts  that  he  willed  something, 
which,  as  he  suggests,  is  entirely  distinct  and  different 
from  such  choice,  viz. :  "  an  exertion  and  motion  of  his 
legs  and  feet ; "  and  "  not  his  being  removed  to  such  a 
place,  where  he  would  be  ; "  so,  also,  he  says,  "  though 
a  man  may  be  said  remotely  to  choose  or  prefer  flying ; 
yet  he  does  not  choose  or  prefer,  incline  to  or  desire, 
under  circumstances  in  view,  any  immediate  exertion 
of  the  members  of  the  body  in  order  to  it ;  because  he 
has  no  expectation  that  he'should  obtain  the  desired  end 
by  any  such  exertion  ;  and  he  does  not  prefer,  or  incline 
to,  any  bodily  exertion  or  effort  under  this  apprehended 
circumstance,  of  its  being  wholly  in  vain."  (Part  I. 
Sec.  1,  p.  3.)  By  "  remotely  to  choose,  or  prefer  fly 
ing,"  Edwards  cannot  mean  remotely  in  regard  to  time. 
If  he  does,  certainly  such  a  choice  or  preference  cannot 
be  an  act  of  will ;  for,  though  we  may  perceive  that  an 
occasion  for  action  in  the  future  will  arise,  and  may 
intend  such  action  then,  action  itself  must  always  be  in 
the  present.  If  I  am  not  now  acting,  I  am  not  acting 
at  all.  I  may  now  be  active  in  comparing  various  con 
ceivable  future  results,  and  in  laying  plans  to  effect 
those  which  I  deem  most  desirable,  or  choose ;  and 
those  plans  may  involve  action  at  some  future  time,  but 
9 


194:  REVIEW   OF   EDWAEDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

cannot  now  be  an  act  in  that  future.  All  this  is  only- 
providing  knowledge  for  future  use,  if  the  occasion  for 
it  occurs.  The  choice,  too,  as  between  the  various  re 
sults,  is  in  the  present,  though  the  subjects  of  the  com 
parison  may  only  be  perceived  in  the  future. 

But  even  if  a  jnan  may  choose  in  the  future,  it  is  at 
least  equally  certain,  that  a  man  may  choose  at  the 
present  time,  to  fly ;  and  the  subsequent  remark  shows 
that  Edwards  merely  means,  that  the  choice  or  prefer 
ence  for  flying  is  remote  from  an  action  /  that  there  is 
not  "  any  immediate  exertion  of  the  members  of  his 
body  in  order  to  it ; "  that  is,  the  mind  makes  no  exer 
tion  to  move  the  members  of  the  body  in  order  to  fly  ; 
for  by  "  exertion  of  the  members  of  the  body,"  he  can 
not  mean  exertion  made  by  these  members,  but  only, 
that  they  are  the  subjects  of  the  mind's  exertions.  The 
statement  of  Edwards,  then,  amounts  to  this,  that  the 
difference  between  a  man's  preferring  to  walk,  and 
walking,  and  preferring  to  fly,  and  not  flying,  is,  that 
in  the  former  case,  the  preferring  is  followed  by  an  ex 
ertion,  and,  in  the  latter,  it  is  not ;  thus  substantially 
confirming  my  views  and  definitions.  But,  as,  even  in 
Edwards's  view,  this  preferring  the  exertion  of  the 
members  of  the  body  in  order  \&  flying,  is  distinct  from 
preferring  to  fly,  then,  though  a  man  willed  such  an 
exertion,  he  would  be  willing  a  distinct  thing  from  the 
flying  which  he  preferred ;  and  his  preferring  flying 
was  still  a  preferring,  growing  out  of  a  comparison  of 
different  modes  of  bodily  movement,  without  any  will 
ing.  But,  in  Edwards's  system,  when  the  mind  had 
compared  and  judged,  or  decided,  and  the  preference 
for  flying  was  reached,  the  flying  was  already  willed, 
and  the  subsequent  fact  of  flying,  or  not  flying,  could 


195 

not  alter  the  prior  fact  of  preferring  or  willing,  which 
had  already  existed.  All  this  difficulty  and  confusion 
evidently  grow  out  of  the  attempt  to  make  choice  and 
will  identical. 

It  is  obvious  that  a  man,  on  comparing  flying  with 
walking,  may  prefer  the  former,  as  apparently  a  more 
graceful  and  rapid  mode  of  moving.  Up  to  the  point 
of  preference,  or  choice,  there  is  no  difference — touch 
ing  subsequent  action,  or  non-action — between  his  pre 
ferring  to  walk  and  his  preferring  to  fly,  and  that  differ 
ence,  by  which,  in  the  one  case,  he  does  or  tries  to  do 
what  he  prefers,  and,  in  the  other,  does  not,  must  come 
after  this  preference  is  decided  and  established.  The  ex 
ertion^  which  Edwards  practically  admits  as  constituting 
the  difference  in  the  two  cases  of  choosing  to  walk  and 
choosing  to  fly,  must  then  come  after  the  choice.  He 
has,  however,  as  before  shown,  placed  choice  in  imme 
diate  contiguity  with  the  effect,  and  thus,  having  left 
no  room  between,  must  of  necessity  crowd  this  exertion 
either  into  the  choice,  on  the  one  hand,  or  into  the 
effect,  on  the  other ;  and  though  his  views  generally 
favor  the  former,  in  this  particular  case,  he  speaks  of 
the  exertion  as  the  tiling  chosen,  which,  of  course,  is  not 
the  same  as  the  choice,  but,  on  his  statements,  must  be 
the  immediate  effect  of  the  choice.  His  expression, 
"  exertion  AND  motion  of  his  legs  and  feet,"  seems  to 
imply  that  the  exertion  is  something  distinct  from  the 
motion,  and  that  both  are  of  the  legs  and  feet /  while 
his  other  expression,  "  exertion,  OK  alteration  of  the 
body,"  admits  of  the  inference  that  they  are  one  and  the 
same  thing,  or  that  one  is  a  substitute  for  the  other. 
It  is,  however,  certain  that  exertion  must  be  of  the  mind, 
and  that  "  bodily  exertion,"  and  similar  phrases,  only 


196       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

designate  the  subject  of  the  exertion,  and  not  the  agent 
making  the  effort.  Exertion,  then,  as  used  by  Ed 
wards,  must  be  that  action  of  the  mind,  which  is  the 
immediate  antecedent  of  the  effect ;  and  Edwards  has 
thus  practically,  though  unconsciously,  been  obliged 
to  admit  into  his  system  if  not  into  his  own  mind,  the 
element  which  I  have  placed  between  the  judgment, 
or  choice,  and  the  effect,  or  change  indicated  by  that 
judgment,  or  choice ;  and,  in  some  way,  probably  by 
the  constraining  forms  of  conventional  language,  we 
have  been  led  to  apply  to  it,  the  very  similar  terms,  EX 
ERTION  and  EFFORT. 

As  he  also  makes  the  act  of  will,  by  whatever  name 
he  may  designate  it,  the  immediate  antecedent  of  the 
effect,  he  must,  in  admitting  a  .mental  exertion  which 
must  come  after  the  choice,  also  virtually  admit,  that 
this  exertion  by  the  mind  is  the  mind's  act  of  will. 
Having,  however,  in  his  system,  no  space  between  the 
choice  and  the  effect,  he  is  compelled,  as  a  logical  ne 
cessity,  to  include  this  exertion  either  in  choice,  and 
thus,  in  some  instances,  as  before  stated,  make  the 
choice  the  same  as  the  thing  chosen  ;  or,  to  avoid  this, 
put  the  exertion  into  the  effect,  including  it  in  the  same 
category  with  ~bodily  motion^  thus  confounding  things 
so  widely  different,  so  very  distinct,  as  the  motion  of 
matter,  and  effort,  or  endeavor ;  and  here  again  also 
confounding  the  choice  with  the  things  chosen. 

Under  the  views  which  I  have  asserted  in  Book  I, 
we  would  find  the  distinction  in  the  two  cases  of  choos 
ing  to  walk  and  choosing  to  fly,  in  the  difference  of  our 
knowledge  of  the  two.  The  want  may  be,  to  be  moved  9 
to  another  place,  and  a  man  not  knowing  which  mode 
of  movement  to  adopt,  on  comparing  the  motion  of  a 


197 

bird  with  that  of  an  ox,  may  prefer  the  flying  to  the 
walking ;  but  if  he  knows  no  mode  of  flying  he  cannot 
practically  even  attempt  it,  any  more  than  one  who, 
comparing  the  past  and  present,  should  prefer  living  in 
the  last  century,  can  make  effort  to  live  in  it.  That  his 
want  of  knowledge  of  a  mode  makes  the  real  difference 
in  the  two  cases  is  obvious  from  the  fact,  that  if  a  man 
has  any  faith,  the  slightest  belief,  that,  by  swinging  his 
arms  and  kicking  the  air,  or  by  any  other  acts  in  his 
power,  he  can  fly,  he  can  make  the  effort,  can  will  to 
fly,  as  well  as  will  to  walk,  and  that  many  persons, 
having  faith  in  some  conceivable  mode,  have  made 
very  earnest  and  persistent  efforts  to  fly,  bringing  all 
their  knowledge  of  materials  and  mechanical  combina 
tions  into  requisition  for  that  object ;  and  the  effort  it 
self  was  as  real  and  as  perfect  as  though  it  had  been 
successful.  In  birds  this  knowledge  is  probably  intui 
tive,  and  they,  no  doubt,  will  flying  as»readily  as  walk 
ing. 

Edwards,  in  defining  will,  as  he  says,  "  without  any 
metaphysical  refining,"  evidently  intended  to  use  the 
term  choice  in  its  popular  sense ;  but  if,  in  this  use,  it 
admits  of  such  latitudinous  and  various  application,  it  is 
manifestly  unfit  for  philosophical  analysis.  But  even 
if  choice  is  sometimes  popularly  used  as  an  equivalent 
for  will,  such  use  is  by  no  means  universal,  as  it  should 
be  to  make  it  even  one  ground  of  identity.  We  say 
choose,  or  choosing  an  apple ;  but  never  will,  or  will 
ing  an  apple ;  and,  generally,  the  term  choice  seems 
applicable  to  external  objects,  while  an  act  of  will  can 
relate  only  to  changes  in  our  own  being.  If,  when  we 
say,  a  man  does  a  thing,  because  he  chooses  to  do  it,  or 
a  man  does  a  thing,  because  he  wills  to  do  it,  we  intend 


198  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

to  express  the  same  thing,  we  may  still  mean  in  each 
expression  to  combine  both  choice  and  will,  as  distinct 
subjects.  Both  expressions  may  be  elliptical ;  choice 
being  unstated  in  the  one,  and  the  act  of  will  in  the 
other.  But  more  generally,  I  think  the  former  expres 
sion  implies  an  examination,  a  comparison,  the  result  of 
which  furnishes  a  reason  for  the  doing  ;  while  the  latter 
applies  to  that  hasty,  or  capricious  doing,  which  is  not 
founded  on  such  reason. 

To  recapitulate  :  Edwards  makes  willing  and  choos 
ing,  or  an  act  of  will  and  an  act  of  choice,  identical ; 
and  also  makes  the  willing  the  last  agency  of  the  mind 
in  producing  an  effect.  He  also  makes  choice  either  a 
comparative  act,  or  the  result  of  a  comparative  act. 
These  two  definitions  of  the  term  choice  seem  to  me 
philosophically  incompatible,  and  as  unwarranted  even 
by  vulgar  use.  In  the  first  place,  the  comparative  act 
is  not  itself  the  choice,  but 'a  preliminary  act  of  mind,  of 
which  choice  is  in  some  cases  the  object ;  and  hence  there 
is  an  act  of  will,  which  is  not  itself  a  choice.  Again,  if 
choice  is  the  result  of  an  act  of  comparison,  and  this  re 
sult  is,  as  Edwards  says,  also  an  act  of  will,  or  the  last 
agency  of  the  mind  in  producing  an  effect,  then  this 
choice  must  have  been  preceded  by  an  act  of  compari 
son,  which  was  an  act  of  will,  and,  as  such,  being  also 
choice,  it  too  must  have  been  preceded  by  another  act 
of  comparison,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum.  If  it  be  ad- 
.  mitted  that  the  series  may  be  traced  back  till  we  come 
to  a  comparison  and  choice  which  are  simple  percep 
tions  of  the  mind  and  not  acts  of  will,  then  we  have  a 
choice  which  is  not  an  act  of  will,  and  which  evidently 
pertains  to  the  sphere  of  knowledge,  or,  in  Edwards's 
division,  to  that  of  the  understanding,  and  not  to  that 


EDWAKDS'S   DEFINITION   OF   WILL.  199 

of  the  will.     And  when  we  trace  the  series  forward  to 
where  the  mind  has  decided  as  to  what  change  it  would 
have,  or  what  its  want  indicates,  and  also  as  to  the 
mode  of  effecting  it,  and  come  to  the  last  decision,  or 
choice,  as  to  whether  to  do,  or  not  to  do  ;  then,  if  choice 
is  the  last  agency  of  the  mind,  the  choice  to  do,  to  it  as 
completely  ends  the  matter  as  the  choice  not  to  do,  leav 
ing  no  room  for  the  subsequent  difference  in  the  con 
ditions  of  the  mind  in  the  two  cases ;  and  further,  if 
this  choice  is  itself  the  act  of  will,  or  the  last  agency 
of  the  mind,  it  is,  so  far  as  the  mind  is  concerned,  also 
the  doing,  and  the  choice  and  the  thing  chosen  are  one 
and  the  same  thing.     If  it  be  said  that  the  definition, 
"the  will   is  that  by  which   the   mind   chooses  any 
thing,"  means  that  the  act  of  comparing  by  which  the 
mind  chooses  "is   an  act  of  will,  then  this-  definition 
is  futile,  because  we  could,  in   the  same  sense,  say 
that  the  will  is  that  by  which  we  remember,  or  move 
our  muscles,  or  do  any  thing  else ;  and  besides,  this  is 
not  the  sense  in  which  Edwards  uses  it.     Even  as  re 
gards  the  act  to  be  done,  we  do  not  always  select  or 
choose  it  by  a  preliminary  act  comparing  it  with  the 
other  acts ;  for,  in  all  those  cases  of  instinctive,  or  ha 
bitual  action,  in  which  the  one  mode,  and  only  the  one, 
is  intuitively  known,  or  has  been  determined  by  previous 
and  repeated  experience,  we  do  not  delay  action  to  com 
pare  and  choose ;  and  in  every  act  of  will,  as  it  must 
have  for  its  object  to  move  some  portion  of  mind  or* 
body,  for  which  we  know  only  the  one  mode  of  will,  or 
effort,  there  can  be  no  choice  as  to  the  mode. 

And  finally,  Edwards  himself,  in  using  choice  as 
will,  and  identifying  choosing  with  willing,  meets  with 
the  very  difficulties  we  have  indicated,  and  is  obliged 


200  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL.  . 

practically  to  admit  exertion, — effort — as  intervening 
between  the  choice  and  the  effect  chosen.  That  these 
errors  in  definition,  or  varied  application  of  the  same 
terms,  lead  to  important  errors,  I  trust,  already  appears, 
and  will  become  more  palpable  as  we  proceed  in  the 
examination  of  his  argument.  I  will  only  add,  that,  if 
the  arguments  I  have  here  presented  are  found  to  be 
fallacious,  or  insufficient,  and  it  shall  still  appear  that 
choice  is  not  a  mere  perception,  or  is  not  that  knowledge 
which  results  from  a  prior  comparison  ;  but  is  an  action 
of  the  mind,  deciding  by  an  act  of  will,  in  conformity 
to  the  knowledge  it  acquired  by  comparing ;  then,  as  it 
is  not  this  knowledge  which  thus  acts,  but  the  active 
agent — the  mind — directing  its  own  action  by  means  of 
this  knowledge,  if  we  carry  back  the  domain  of  action, 
or  will,  to  choice,  we  also  extend  the  mind's  freedom  in 
action  over  the  same  ground ;  for,  the  mind's  directing 
its  own  action  constitutes  its  freedom. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

LIBERTY      AS     DEFINED      BY     EDWARDS. 

OF  the  term  liberty,  so  important  in  this  inquiry, 
Edwards  says,  "  The  plain  and  obvious  meaning  of  the 
words  Freedom  and  Liberty,  in  common  speech,  is 
power,  opportunity,  or  advantage,  that  any  one  has  to 
do  as  he  pleases  ;  or,  in  other  words,  his  being  free  from 
hindrance,  or  impediment  in  the  way  of  doing,  or  con 
ducting  in  any  respect  as  he  wills.*  And  the  contrary 
to  liberty,  whatever  nam'e  we  call  that  by,  is  a  person's 
being  hindered,  or  unable  to  conduct  as  he  will,  or  being 
necessitated  to  do  otherwise."  (Part  I.  Sec.  5,  p.  36.)  It 
is  manifest  that  the  willing  is  not  here  deemed  a  doing, 
nor  the  doing  a  willing,  for  this  would  make  Edwards 
say  that  freedom  is  power  to  do  as  one  does,  or  to  will 
as  one  wills.  This  power  to  do  as  one  wills,  must  then 
mean  power  to  produce  the  effect  for  which  the  act  of 
will  is  put  forth. 

This  power  that  any  Tme  has  of  doing  as  he  wills, 
he  subsequently  contends,  is  the  only  liberty  which  man 
possesses  ;  and,  in  the  same  section  with  the  above,  he 
says,  "  but  the  word  as  used  by  Arminians,  Pelagians 
and  others,  who  oppose  the  Calvinists,  has  an  entirely 
different  signification  "  (p.  38)  ;  thus  clearly  intimating, 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXVII. 
9* 


202  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

as  he  defends  the  Calvinistic  view,  that  only  his  oppo 
nents  use  it  in  a  different  sense.  Now,  it  seems  some 
what  remarkable,  that  this  human  liberty,  if  it  exists, 
should  be  placed,  not  in  the  acts  of  willing,  of  which  the 
willing  agent  is  conscious  as  his  own  acts,  but,  in  a  sub 
sequent  performance,  in  which  Edwards  admits  and  as 
serts  the  human  being  is  not  conscious  of  being  an*actor 
at  all,  and  does  not  know  who,  or  what  the  performers 
are.  Such  a  liberty  is  but  the  liberty  which  a  man, 
powerless  to  move  himself,  may  have  in  being  actually 
moved  by  some  other  power,  which  to  him  is  unknown. 
If  the  willing  is  not  considered  as  a  doing,  and  this 
liberty  in  doing  as  one  wills  is'the  only  human  liberty, 
then,  of  course,  the  mind  of  man  has  no  liberty  in  will 
ing  ;  and  the  decision  of  the  main  inquiry  as  to  the 
liberty  of  the  mind  in  willing  is  involved  in  that  of  the 
correctness  of  Edwards' s  definition  of  the  word  liberty  ; 
the  assertion  of  which  begs  the  question,  for  if  the  only 
liberty  comes  after  the  willing,  the  act  of  the  mind  in 
willing  is  excluded  from  it. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  willing  is  considered  as  a 
doing,  then,  in  the  act  of  willing,  the  liberty,  which,  by 
the  terms  of  this  definition,  is  power  to  do' as  one  wills, 
becomes,  power  to  will-  as  one  wills,  or  do  as  one  does, 
and,  as  this  power  must  be  admitted,  liberty  in  such  act 
of  will  is  immediately  deducible  from  the  definition. 
In  his  Sec.  4,  p.  35,  Edwards  directly  aserts  that  "  in 
this  case,"  (i.  e.  when  willing  is  also  the  doing,)  "  not 
only  is  it  true  that  it  is  easy  for  a  man  to  do  the  thing 
if  he  will,  but  the  very  willing  is  the  doing ;  when 
once  he  has  willed,  the  thing  is  performed,  and  nothing 
else  remains  to  be  done."  One's  liberty  in  willing  may 
be  a  power  to  will  as  he  pleases,  which  is  self-direction 


LIBEETY   AS   DEFINED   BY   EDWAKDS.  203 

of  effort,  by  means  of  knowledge  in  the  form  of  a  per 
ception  of  what  will  suit  him  best,  and  the  confusion  in 
Edwards's  argument  here  arises  from  his  assuming  that 
the  phrase  "  as  he  pleases "  is  equivalent  to  "  as  he 
wills,"  which  he  has  before  asserted  in  his  definition  of 
will.  It  is  one  form  of  the  difficulty  which  continually 
arises  from  his  making  will  synonymous  with  choice, 
preference,  and  other  terms  or  phrases  of  like  import. 

When  we  have  a  want,  and  contemplate  the  means 
of  gratifying  it,  we  find  what  change  will  gratify  ;  what 
action  or  effort  will  effect  the  change  ;-^nd  then  whether 
to  make  the  effort  or  not.  In  all  these  cases  the  knowl 
edge  thus  found  is,  at  least  very  generally,  a  choice 
among  things  compared,  and  it  seems  obvious  that  if 
freedom  in  doing  is  defined  to  be  doing  as  one  pleases 
or  chooses ',  freedom  in  willing  should,  in  analogy  to 
it,  be  willing  as  one  chooses.  From  this  harmonious 
order  Edwards  excluded  himself  by  his  definitions  mak 
ing  will  and  choice  identical ;  though  in  his  reasoning, 
as  will  hereafter  appear,  he  assumes  that  the  distinguish 
ing  feature  of  a  free  act  of  will  is  its  conformity  to  a 
previous  choice  of  the  act ;  and  this,  as  choosing  the 
act  is  the  consummation  of  our  knowledge  relating  to 
that  act,  is  in  conformity  to  the  views  I  have  stated  in 
Book  I. 


CHAPTER  III. 

NATURAL  AND  MORAL  NECESSITY. 

• 

EDWABDS  makes  much  use  of  the  distinction  between 
natural  and  moral  necessity,  which  phrases  he  thus  de 
fines  : — "And  sometimes  by  moral  necessity^  meant 
that  necessity  of  connection  and  consequence,  which  arises 
from  such  moral  causes  as  the  strength  of  inclination, 
or  motives,  and  the  connection  which  there  is  in  many 
cases  between  these  and  such  certain  volitions  and  ac 
tions.  And  it  is  in  this  sense,  that  I  use  the  phrase 
moral  necessity  in  the  following  discourse.  By  natural 
necessity,  as  applied  to  men,  1  mean  such  necessity  as 
men  are  under,  through  the  force  of  natural  causes,  as 
distinguished  from  what  are  called  moral  causes  ;  such 
as  habits  and  dispositions  of  the  heart  and  moral  mo 
tives  and  inducements.  Thus  men  placed  in  certain 
circumstances  are  the  subjects  of  particular  sensations 
by  necessity ;  they  feel  pain  when  their  bodies  are 
wounded ;  they  see  the  objects  presented  before  them 
in  a  clear  light,  when  their  eyes  are  opened ;  so  they 
assent  to  the  truth  of  certain  propositions,  as  soon  as  the 
terms  are  understood,  as  that  two  and  two  make  four, 
that  black  is  not  white,  that  two  parallel  lines  can  never 
cross  one  another ;  so,  by  a  natural  necessity,  men's 


NATURAL   AND   MORAL   NECESSITY.  205 

bodies  move  downwards,  when  there  is  nothing  to  sup 
port  them."     (Part  I.  Sec.  4,  pp.  27,  28.) 

Edwards  further  says,  "  When  I  use'this  distinction 
of  moral  and  natural  necessity ',  I  would  not  be  under 
stood  to  suppose,  that  if  anything  conies  to  pass  by  the 
former  kind  of  necessity,  the  nature  of  things  is  not  con 
cerned  in  it,  as  well  as  in  the  latter.  I  do  not  mean  to 
determine  that  where  a  moral  habit  or  motive  is  so 
strong  that  the  act  of  the  will  infallibly  follows,  this  is 
not  owing  to  the  nature  of  things."  (Sec.  4,  p.  29.) 
And  again,  "  I  suppose  that  necessity  which  is  called 
natural,  in  distinction  from  moral  necessity,  is  so  called 
because  mere  nature,  as  the  word  is  vulgarly  used,  is 
concerned,  without  anything  of  choice.  The  word  nature 
is  often  used  in  opposition  to  choice  /  not  because  na 
ture  has  indeed  never  any  hand  in  our  choice  ;  but  this 
probably  comes  to  pass  by  means  that  we  first  get  our 
notion  of  nature  from  that  discernible  and  obvious 
course  of  events,  which  we  observe  in  many  things  that 
our  choice  has  no  concern  in ;  and  especially  in  the 
material  world ;  which,  in  very  many  parts  of  it,  we 
easily  perceive  to  be  in  a  settled  course;  the  stated 
order  and  manner  of  succession  being  very  apparent. 
But  where  we  do  not  readily  discern  the  rule  and  con 
nection,  (though  there  be  a  connection,  according  to 
an  established  law,  truly  taking  place,)  we  signify  the 
manner  of  event  by  some  other  name.  Even  in  many 
things  which  are  seen  in  the  material  and  inanimate 
world,  which  do  not  discernibly  and  obviously  come  to 
pass  according  to  any  settled  course,  men  do  not  call 
the  manner  of  the  event  by  the  name  of  nature,  but  by 
such  names  as  accident,  chance,  contingent,  &c.  So 
men  make  a  distinction  between  nature  and  choice  ;  as 


206  REVIEW   OF    EDWAKDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

though  they  were  completely  and  universally  distinct. 
Whereas,  I  suppose  none  will  deny  but  that  choice,  in 
many  cases,  arises  from  nature,  as  truly  as  other  events. 
But  the  dependence  and  connection  between  acts  of 
volition  or  choice,  and  their  causes,  according  to  estab 
lished  laws,  is  not  so  sensible  and  obvious.  And  we 
observe,  that  choice  is,  as  it  were,  a  new  principle  of 
motion  and  action,  different  from  that  established  law 
and  order  of  things  which  is  most  obvious,  that  is  seen 
especially  in  corporeal  and  sensible  things  ;  and  also  the 
choice  often  interposes,  interrupts  and  alters  the  chain 
of  events  in  these  external  objects,  and  causes  them  to 
proceed  otherwise  than  they  would  do,  if  let  alone,  and 
left  to  go  on  according  to  the  laws  of  motion  among 
themselves.  Hence,  it  is  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a  prin 
ciple  of  motion  entirely  distinct  from  nature  and  prop 
erly  set  in  opposition  to  it :  names  being  commonly 
given  to  things,  according  to  what  is  most  obvious,  and 
is  suggested  by  what  appears  to  the  senses  without  re 
flection  and  research."  (Sec.  4,  pp.  30,  31.) 

There  is  in  all  this  much  confusion,  growing  out  of 
a  vague  use  of  the  terms  "  nature,"  "  nature  of  things," 
and  "  natural  causes,"  by  which  Edwards  seems  to  dis 
tinguish  natural  from  moral  necessity,  and  yet  asserts 
that  they  have  the  same  relation  to  both.  As  he  argues 
elsewhere  that  every  volition  is  an  event,  which  is  in- 
dissolubly  connected  with  some  other  event  in  the  past, 
on  which  it  is  dependent  as  an  effect  upon  its  cause, 
and  hence,  must  of  necessity  come  to  pass  ;  he  must,  to 
sustain  this,  assert  that  choice, — volition — "  arises  from 
nature  as  truly  as  other  events,"  and  is  embraced  in 
that  "  course  of  events,"  though  "  the  dependence  and 
connection,"  "  according  to  established  laws  is  not  so- 


NATURAL  AND   MORAL   NECESSITY.  20. 

sensible  and  obvious."  But  this  is  in  opposition  to  his 
other  v,iews  which  make  choice  "  a  principle  of  motion 
entirely  distinct  from  nature  and  properly  set  in  oppo 
sition  to  it,"  and  which  he  seems,  at  least  partially,  to 
adopt.  I  think,  however,  that  it  is  will,  and  not  choice, 
that  is  popularly  "  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a  principle  of 
motion  entirely  distinct  from  nature,"  &c. ;  and  though 
this  speaking  is  not  accurate,  there  is  a  foundation  for 
it  in  the  views  I  have  already  stated  in  Book  First  of 
this  treatise. 

In  conformity  to  those  views,  every  intelligent 
being,  acting  through  its  will,  is  a  distinct  cause,  modi 
fying  that  future,  which  is  the  joint  product,  or  effect, 
of  all  causes  combined  ;  and  the  object  of  effort  in  each 
intelligent  cause  is  to  change,  or  make  that  future  differ 
ent  in  some  respect  from  what  it  would,  or  might  be, 
but  for  its  own  agency ;  and  hence,  each  will  is,  in  some 
sense,  in  opposition  to  all  other  wills  and  to  any  other 
causes  external  to  itself,  and  especially  to  those  of  which 
it  can  anticipate  such  consequences  as  it  would  modify. 
When  it  perceives  such  consequences,  it  may  strive  to 
vary  their  effects  by  its  own  act  of  will, — its  own  causa 
tive  agency.  It  may,  however,  cooperate  with  all 
other  causes  as  to  any  effect  which  it  does  not  seek,  or 
wish  to  change  ;  in  such  case  putting  forth  its  own  effort, 
only  to  become  an  agent  in  producing  such  effect ; 
which  agency  is,  so  far,  still  a  change,  or  difference 
wrought  by  its  own  effort,  or  act  of  will. 

What  Edwards  says  of  choice  is  true  of  wiU,  that  it 
"  often  interposes,  interrupts,  and  alters  the  chain  of 
events  in  these  external  objects,  and  causes  them  to 
proceed  otherwise  than  they  would  do,  if  let  alone,  and 


208       KEVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

left  to  go  on  according  to  the  laws  of  motion  in  them 
selves." 

If  these  laws  of  motion .,  or  the  uniform  course  of 
events,  which  we  observe  in  external  things,  are  but 
manifestations  of  the  will  of  God,  then,  when  we  seek 
to  alter  them,  we  are,  in  the  sense  before  alluded  to, 
opposing  His  action,  or  striving  to  modify  its  effects. 
In  the  same  way,  each  finite  mind  may-  oppose  other 
finite  minds,  when  it  perceives  that  their  action  is  lead 
ing  to  results  which  it  does  not  wish. 

This  independent  and  distinct  action  of  each  intelli 
gent  agent  to  modify  the  action  of  all  other  causes, 
argues  that  each  determines  its  own  course  of  action 
and  consequently  is  free  in  such  action.  If  the  individ 
ual  will  is  controlled  by  these  other  external  causes, 
then  these  external  causes  oppose  their  own  action, 
through  the  will  which  they  thus  control ;  or  convert 
the  will  of  another  to  their  own  use  ;  and  this  control 
over  another  will,  as  before  shown,  can  only  be  ex 
erted  directly,  by  making  the  willing  by  it,  their  own 
willing ;  and  indirectly,  only  when  the  willing  by  the 
agent  thus  used  is  free. 

Edwards's  argument  from  natural  and  moral  neces 
sity  rests  upon  that  vague,  popular  notion,  which  leads 
men  to  impute  certain  events,  for  which  they  know  no 
secondary  causes,  to  the  "  nature  of  things,"  which 
really  means  nothing  more  than  that  such  events  are  of 
common  or  uniform  occurrence.  He  has  told  us  that 
"  mere  nature,  as  the  word  is  vulgarly  used,  is  con 
cerned,  without  anything  of  choice."  Had  he  looked 
beyond  this  vulgar  use  to  what  it  is  concerned  with, — 
to  the  will,  or,  as  he  would  say,  the  choice  of  God,  he 
could  hardly  have  failed  to  perceive,  that  the  choice,  or 


NATURAL  AND  MOEAL  NECESSITY.  209 

human  will,  could  not  change  the  course  of  nature  at 
all,  except  by  being  an  independent  cause  ;  and  that,  if 
it  is  controlled  by  nature  in  its  acts  of  will,  any  opposi 
tion  of  it  to  nature  must  really  be  nature  opposing 
itself,  by  means  of  the  act  which  it  controls.  If  the 
human  mind,  acting  by  its  faculty  of  will,  can  produce 
such  changes  in  the  course  of  nature  as  Edwards  repre 
sents,  it  must,  so  far,  be  a  power  independent  of  nature ; 
and  as  he  virtually  divides  all  power  or  cause  into  na 
ture  and  human  will,  the  human  will,  must,  so  far,  be 
independent  of  all  other  power  or  cause ;  and  hence,  in 
producing  these  changes  is  subject  only  to  its  own  con 
trol  ;  which  is  but  an  expression  for  its  freedom  in 
willing. 

In  regard  to  the  limit  of  what  Edwards  calls  "  natu 
ral  necessity  as  applied  to  men,"  and  by  which,  as  al 
ready  explained,  must  be  meant  the  paramount  will  of 
God,  which,  though  it  may  not  interfere  with  man's 
freedom  in  willing,  frustrates  his  efforts,  we  may  re 
mark,  that  the  same  necessity  occurs  to  us  in  reference 
to  the  counter  willing  of  the  finite  mind.  We  may  not 
be  able  to  prevent,  or  to  counteract  its  will  or  effort, 
any  more  than  we  can  that  of  the  infinite  ;  either  may 
frustrate  the  execution  of  what  we  will,  without  inter 
fering  with  our  freedom  in  willing.  The  wound  in 
flicted  on  me  by  an  act  of  violence  willed  by  another 
man,  may  be  as  unavoidable  to  me  as  the  consequent 
pain,  which  results  from  "  the  nature  of  things," — from 
that  constitution  of  my  being  which  is  willed  by  God. 
In  either  case,  it  is  a  question,  not  of  freedom  in  will 
ing,  but  of  power  to  execute  by  willing ;  the  sufficiency 
or  insufficiency  of  which  may  only  become  known  by 
the  trial,  by  the  result,  which  follows  the  willing ;  and, 


210       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

of  course,  cannot  affect  the  willing,  which,  has  already 
been,  or  now  is.  If  these  views  are  correct,  the  argu 
ment  which  Edwards  exhibits,  in  treating  of  natural- 
and  moral  necessity,  is  against  that  liberty  of  doing  as 
we  will,  which  he  deems  the  only  human  liberty,  rather 
than  against  that  freedom  in  willing,  which  he  seeks 
to  disprove. 

The  classification,  by  Edwards,  of  all  cause  into 
nature  and  the  human  will,  admits  of  three  distinct  in 
telligent  causes  of  effects, — the  will  of  God — my  own 
will, — the  wills  of  other  intelligent  beings,  all  of  which 
may  be  independent  of  each  other ;  no  one  directly 
interfering  with  the  other,  but  each  directing  its  own 
power,  and  yet,  each,  in  virtue  of  its  own  intelligence, 
freely  modifying  its  exercise  of  its  own  powers,  in  con 
sequence  of  what  it  perceives  the  others  have  done,  are 
doing,  or  may  be  expected  to  do.  The  result  of  their 
former  efforts,  sometimes  cooperating,  sometimes  op 
posing,  have  produced  the  present  state  of  things,  in 
view  of  which  each  now  acts,  and  the  composition  of  the 
effects  of  their  several  efforts  with  material  causes,  if 
any,  creates  the  future. 

We  may  now  observe  that,  in  the  definitions  of 
moral  and  natural  necessity,  the  term  necessity  is  used 
in  very  different  senses,  or  relations.  Moral  necessity, 
as  stated  by  Edwards,  means  a  supposed  necessary  con 
nection  between  the  action  of  a  mind  in  willing  and 
something  else,  which  is  of,  or  in  that  mind,  u  as  incli 
nation,  motive,"  &c.,  while  natural  necessity,  which,  to 
correspond,  should  mean  the  action  of  external  causes 
on  the  will,  does  not  relate  to  the  act  of  willing  at  all, 
but  only  to  what  follows  the  act  of  will,  to  the  want  of 


NATURAL  AND'  MOEAL   NECESSITY.  211 

human  power,  in  some  cases,  to  influence  the  will  of 
God,  or  change  that  which  He  has  willed. 

In  the  same  way,  the  phrase  "  moral  inability  "  is 
applied  to  willing,  while  "  natural  inability  "  relates  to 
the  effect  which  is  the  sequence,  or  object  of  willing  ;  to 
the  want  of  power  in  all  cases  to  control,  or  alter  that 
condition,  or  course  of  nature,  which  is  the  manifesta 
tion  of  God's  will.  Natural  necessity,  and  natural  in 
ability,  both  imply  that  a  man  cannot  avoid  feeling 
pain,  when  wounded  ;  cannot  overturn  the  Alps,  or 
change  the  course  of  the  stars  which  God  has  ordained. 
The  definition  also  asserts,  that  the  human  mind  must 
believe  in  conformity  to  evidence  presented  to  it ;  which 
is  merely  asserting,  that  the  human  mind  cannot  by 
effort  alter  what  already  is  or  has  been,  nor  prevent  the 
future  effect  of  any  power  superior  to  its  own  ;  or,  being 
intelligent,  cannot  by  the  exercise  of  its  intelligence, 
divest  itself  of  the  necessary  attributes  of  intelligence, 
and  not  perceive  and  know  that  which  it  does  perceive 
and  know  ;  the  whole  statement,  so  far  as  it  bears  upon 
the  question  of  human  freedom,  amounting  to  this,  that 
the  power  which  a  finite  being  exerts  by  will  is  not 
paramount  to  that  of  Omnipotence,  and  cannot  work 
contradictions. 

If  by  "  nature,"  or  "  the  nature  of  things,"  Edwards 
does  not  mean  the  will  of  God,  then  in  saying,  "  I  sup 
pose  none  will  deny  but  that  choice,  in  many  cases, 
arises  from  nature,  as  truly  as  other  events.  But  the 
dependence  and  connection  between  acts  of  volition  or 
choice,  and  their  causes,  according  to  established  laws,  is 
not  so  sensible  and  obvious,"  he  makes  "  nature "  an 
unintelligent  cause,  producing,  among  other  effects, 
human  volitions,  "  according  to  established  laws,"  with- 


212       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

out  showing  how  it  can  know,  or  conform  to  such  law, 
or  how  be  cause  at  all.     Or,  if  he  makes  "  nature  "  the 
will  of  God,  acting  in  conformity  to  His  own  laws,  he 
asserts  that  human  volitions  arise,  like  external  natural 
effects,  or  changes,  from  His  direct  action,  and  is  mis 
taken  in  supposing  that  none  will  deny  this  position, 
which  really  begs  the  whole  question.     It  is,  however, 
upon  the  assumed  "  necessity  of  connection  "  of  the  acts 
of  will  with  "  such  moral  causes  as  the  strength  of  in 
clination,  or  motive,"  that  Edwards  mainly  founds  the 
argument  against  freedom  in  willing,  which  he  deduces 
from  his  -definition  of  moral  necessity,  and  which  he 
thus  initiates :    "  Moral  necessity  may  be  as  absolute 
as  natural  necessity.     That  is,  the  effect  may  be  as  per 
fectly  connected  with  its  moral  cause,  as  a  natural  neces 
sary  effect  is  with  its  natural  cause.     "Whether  the  will 
in  every  case  is  necessarily  determined  by  the  strongest 
motive,  or  whether  the  will  ever  makes  any  resistance 
to  such  a  motive,  or  can  oppose  the  strongest  present 
inclination,  or  not ;   if  that  matter  should  be  contro 
verted,  yet  I  suppose  none  will  deny  but  that,  in  some 
cases,  a  previous  bias  and  inclination,  or  the  motive 
presented,  may  be  so  powerful  that  the  act  of  the 
will  may  be  certainly  and  indissolubly  connected  there 
with.      Where    motives,   or    previous  bias    are  very 
strong,  all  will  allow  that  there  is  some  difficulty  in 
going  against  them.     And  if  they  were  yet  stronger, 
the  difficulty  would  be  still  greater.     And,  therefore,  if 
more  were  still  added  to  their  strength,  to  a  certain  de 
gree,  it  would  make  the  difficulty  so  great  that  it  would 
be  wholly  impossible  to  surmount  it;    for  this  plain 
reason,  because  whatever  power  men  may  be  supposed 
to  have  to  surmount  difficulties,  yet  that  power  is  not 


NATURAL  AND  MORAL  NECESSITY.  213 

infinite ;  and  so  goes  not  beyond  certain  limits.  If  a 
man  can  surmount  ten  degrees  of  difficulty  of  this  kind 
with  twenty  degrees  of  strength,  because  the  degrees  of 
strength  are  beyond  the  degrees  of  difficulty  ;  yet,  if  the 
difficulty  be  increased  to  thirty  or  an  hundred,  or  a 
thousand  degrees  and  his  strength  not  also  increased, 
his  strength  will  be  wholly  insufficient  to  surmount  the 
difficulty.  As,  therefore,  it  must  be  allowed  that  there 
may  be  such  a  thing  as  a  sure  and  perfect  connection 
between  moral  causes  and  effects,  so  this  only  is  what 
I  call  by  the  name  of  moral  necessity"  (Sec.  4,  pp. 
28,  29.) 

One  essential  support  of  this  argument  is  the  hypo 
thesis  that  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce  the  same 
effects,  which  I  will  consider  hereafter ;  as,  also,  the 
relation  of  motives  generally  to  the  will,  which  Ed 
wards  here  introduces,  but  states  more  fully  in  a  subse 
quent  chapter. 

The  first  statement  in  the  quotation  just  made 
merely  asserts  that  the  connection  between  the  human 
volition  and  its  moral  cause  is  as  perfect  as  the  connec 
tion  between  other  causes  and  their  effects  ;  for  in 
stance,  that  between  the  volition  of  God  and  its  effects. 
It  in  fact  asumes  that  human  volitions  are  a  part  of  a 
chain,  or  "  course  of  events,  that  we  observe  in  many 
things  that  our  choice  has  no  concern  in."  This,  as 
Edwards  uses  volition  and  choice,  seems  self-contradic 
tory  ;  but  even  if  admitted,  it  would  still  not  avail  to 
prove  the  necessity  of  volitions,  or  their  dependence  on 
preceding  linl^s  of  the  chain,  unless  he  also  shows  that 
volitions  are  not  included  among  those  events  of  which 
he  says,  "  choice  (will)  often  interposes,  interrupts  and 
"u~~°  +^°  chain  of  events."  It  is  true,  he  seems  to  con- 


214:       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

fine  this  power  of  choice  to  "  interpose,"  &c.,  to  an  in 
terposition  in  regard  to  external  objects,  causing  "  them 
to  proceed  otherwise  than  they  would  do  if  let  alone, 
and  left  to  go  on  according  to  the  laws  of  motion  among 
themselves."  Whether  the  antecedent  links  of  the 
chain,  assumed  by  Edwards  as  reaching  to  volition,  are 
external,  or  internal,  does  not  yet  appear,  but  there  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  such  chain,  if  internal,  may 
not  be  interfered  with  by  the  power  of  the  mind,  as 
much  as  though  it  were  external,  but  rather  the  con 
trary. 

The  latter  part  of  the  quotation  is  an  attempt  to 
prove  that  the  mind,  in  the  act  of  willing,  sometimes 
meets  with  difficulties,  which  it  cannot  surmount.  This 
seems  in  conflict  with  Edwards's  other  position,  that  the 
act  of  will  is  a  necessary  part  of  a  chain  or  course  of 
events,  which  the  mind  not  only  does  not  have  to  aid 
into  existence,  but  which  will  of  necessity  come  to  pass 
without  its  aid,  and  hence,  in  coming  to  pass,  can  pre 
sent  no  difficulty  for  the  mind  to  overcome. .  If,  how 
ever,  Edwards  hereby  intends  to  assert  that  such  diBi- 
cnlties  prevent  the  volition,  then  there  would  be  no  act 
of  will  to  be  the  subject  of  freedom  or  of  necessity. 
This  might  show  that,  under  certain  conditions,  the 
mind  has  not  power  to  will,  but  not  that  it  is  not  free 
when  it  does  will.  Or,  if  he  asserts  that  these  difficul 
ties  prevent  the  mind  from  effecting  what  it  wills,  it 
still  does  not  effect  the  freedom  or  any  other  condition, 
or  characteristic  of  the  act  of  will,  which  already  is,  or 
has  been.  His  design,  however,  seems  to  be  to  argue 
that,  notwithstanding  such  difficulties,  the  mind  does 
still  will  in  the  premises,  but  by  these  difficulties  is  con 
strained  or  compelled  to  will  in  a  particular  way  and 


NATURAL   AND  MORAL   NECESSITY.  215 

cannot,  by  the  exercise  of  its  own  power,  will  in  any 
other.  It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  a  case  in  which  the 
mind  cannot  try  either  to  surmount,  or  to  avoid  a  diffi 
culty  ;  and  this  trying  to  do  either,  whether  successful 
or  not,  is  an  act  of  will.  The  argument  assumes  that 
the  ability,  to  try  to  do  is  limited — that  the  human  will 
is  finite.  I  have  already  considered  this  point  in  Book 
First,  but  will  here  add,  that,  under  Edwards's  asser 
tion  that  the  will  is  the  same  as  choice  and,  also,  as 
desire,  it  seems  even  more  difficult  to  conceive  of  any 
limit  to  it.  An  absolute  limit  to  the  power  to  choose 
among  objects  of  choice,  whether  they  be  things  or 
acts,  or  to  will  changes,  seems  indeed  to  be  as  incon 
ceivable  as  a  limit  to  space.  "We  may  always  choose, 
and  may  will  or  try  to  do  anything  within  the  limits  o'f 
the  conceivable,  as  we  may  wish  anything  conceivable. 
The  limit  cannot  be  in  the  magnitude,  or  the  multi 
plicity  of  the  objects  presented,  for  the  mind  can  choose 
between  one  portion  of  the  universe  and  the  other,  or 
between  as  many  universes  on  the  one  hand,  and  as 
many  on  the  other,  as  it  can  conceive  of;  and,  having 
the  requisite  knowledge,  can  do  it  as  easily  as  it  can 
choose  between  two  apples.  It  can  choose  or  refuse 
anything  conceivable,  and  hence,  so  far  as  the  objects 
of  choice  are  concerned,  has  no  conceivable  limits.  As 
the  power  required  to  choose  or  to  refuse,  does  not 
increase  with  the  magnitude,  multiplicity,  or  any  other 
property  or  quality  of  the  objects  of  choice,  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that,  in  this  respect,  this  faculty  of 
mind  is  not  adequate  to  the  infinite  as  well  as  the  finite. 
The  only  cases  which  Edwards  here  states  of  this  diffi 
culty  are  those  in  which  "  a  previous  bias  and  inclina 
tion,  or  the  motive  presented,"  are  "  so  powerful "  that 


216  REVIEW   OF  EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

the  will  cannot  overcome  them.  As  the  only  tangible 
notion  he  gives  us  of  motive,  is  that  of  a  perception  of 
what  is  agreeable  or  pleasing  prior  to  the  act  of  will ; 
which,  in  his  system,  is  the  same  as  "  previous  inclina 
tion,"  and  bias  being  but  a  synonym  for  inclination, 
this  statement  amounts  to  saying  that  the  difficulty  con 
sists  in  "  a  previous  inclination,"  which  again  under  his 
definitions,  and  as  the  phrase  is  generally  used,  is  a 
previous  choice.  Edwards  elsewhere  assumes  (Part  II. 
Sec.  7,  p.  92)  that  "  antecedent  choice  "  of  the  act  must 
be  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  &free  act  of  will. 
This  too  accords  with  the  common  belief,  and  the  only 
possible  exception  I  have  suggested  to  it  is,  that  in  some 
cases  of  instinctive  or  habitual  action,  the  mind  perceiv 
ing  that  a  certain  act  will  accomplish  its  object,  may 
adopt  it  without  comparison  with  any  other  act,  or  with 
non-action.  When  such  comparison  is  instituted,  the 
choice  is  the  summation  of  the  mind's  knowledge  by 
which  it  directs  its  effort.  Admitting  then  the  two 
positions  of  Edwards,  that  "  previous  inclination  "  may 
be  so  strong  that  the  mind  in  willing  cannot  go  counter 
to  it ;  and  that  an  act  of  will  to  be  free  must  conform 
to  u  antecedent  choice,"  it  follows  that  as  the  act  of  will 
must  conform  to  this  "  previous  inclination,"  and  pre 
vious  inclination  is  the  same  as  antecedent  choice,  that 
the  act  of  will  must,  in  such  cases,  be  &free  act.  These 
insurmountable  difficulties,  thus  in  connection  with  other 
of  his  assumptions,  furnish  Edwards  with  proof  of  a 
necessity ,  but  it  is  that  the  mind's  act  in  willing  is  of 
necessity  free. 

The  supposed  cases  of  the  mind's  want  of  power  to 
overcome  a  previous  inclination,  wrould  seem  to  come 
under  the  head  of  moral  inability  rather  than  of  moral 


NATUKAL  AND  MOKAL  NECESSITY.        217 

necessity ;  but  Edwards's  argument  upon  it  really  is, 
that  the  previous  inclination  "  may  be  so  powerful  that 
the  act  of  will  may  be  indissolubly  connected  therewith," 
and  hence  necessitated  by  this  "  previous  inclination  " 
as  a  moral  cause  in  the  past.  In  this  form,  however, 
the  inference  that  the  mind's  act  in  willing  must  of  ne 
cessity  be  free,  which  I  just  deduced  from  this  certain 
connection  of  such  acts  with  "  previous  inclination  "  or 
choice,  is  quite  as  obvious  as  upon  the  simple  state 
ment  that  there  is  in  previous  inclination  a  difficulty 
which  the  mind  has  not  sufficient  power  to  overcome. 
By  making  this  inclination  a  cause  of  inevitable  volition, 
Edwards  consistently  makes  the  case  one  of  moral  ne 
cessity  rather  than  of  moral  inability,  but  at  the  same 
time  exposes  his  position  to  other  objections  which,  if 
necessary,  might  be  urged  against  them. 

That  in  regard  to  our  actions  we  meet  with  cases  of 
difficulty,  requiring  effort  to  determine  what  we  will 
do,  or  attempt  to  do,  must  be  admitted.  But  this  diffi 
culty  never  occurs  in  immediate  connection  with  the 
willing.  The  mind  is  always  ready  to  will  whenever  it 
has  a  want,  and  knows  or  conceives  some  mode  by 
which  it  deems  it  possible  to  gratify  that  want.  "When 
it  has  no  want  there  is  nothing  for  which  to  put  forth 
effort,  or  to  will ;  but  there  being  no  conceivable  limit 
to  our  wants,  there  is  no  conceivable  limit  to  the  will  in 
that  element.  We  can  suppose  that  a  child  may  want 
to  make  its  three  oranges  six,  and  if  it  can  conceive  of 
any  possible  means,  as  by  piling  them  one  on  another, 
or  dividing  and  recombining  them,  it  can  choose,  and 
can  also  try,  make  effort,  or  will  to  do  so.  In  these 
views  we  reach  the  result,  already  stated  in  Book  First, 
that  the  mind's  power  to  will  is  limited  only  by  its 
10 


218  REVIEW    OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

sphere  of  knowledge,  and  that  the  faculty  of  will  is,  in 
itself,  unlimited.  The  difficulties  exist  only  in  regard 
to  the  mind's  obtaining  the  knowledge  it  needs  to  de 
termine  its  final  action,  and  this  is  really  a  difficulty, 
not  in  its  willing,  but  in  its  power  to  execute  what  it 
wills,  for  even  in  such  extreme  cases  as  that  of  making 
three  oranges  six,  or  o£  a  man's  wanting  to  live  in  the 
last  century,  one  may  try,  make  effort,  or  will  to  find 
some  mode  of  doing  it,  however  fruitless ;  and  any  in 
ability  to  will  to  live  in  the  last  century  arises  from  our 
being  unable  to  execute  what  we  attempt  by  this  pre 
liminary  act  of  will,  the  object  of  which  is  to  obtain  the 
knowledge  of  means,  or  modes,  for  its  final  action  to 
that  end.  All  such  cases  of  difficulty  as  Edwards  al 
ludes  to,  must  be  those  in  which  the  circumstances  are 
so  obscure,  or  so  complicated,  that  the  mind  has  not  a 
clear  perception  or  knowledge  of  what  is  best  to  be 
done,  or  of  the  best  mode  of  doing  it,  or  knows  no  mode 
whatever  of  doing  what  it  wants  done  ;  and  the  obtain 
ing  this  knowledge  constitutes  the  difficulty,  which  it 
freely  puts  forth  its  efforts  to  overcome,  but  in  which  it 
may  or  may  not  be  successful.  "When  the  mind  acts 
upon  its  previous  knowledge  of  some  mode  adapted  to 
the  occasion,  whether  that  knowledge  be  intuitive  or 
acquired,  it  never  can  have  any  difficulty  in  the  will 
ing.  If  we  know  it  will  be  pleasant  or  unpleasant  to 
do  a  certain  thing,  we  take  this  into  view  in  deciding 
whether  to  do  it  or  not.  It  is  in  seeking  to  learn  or 
know  what  to  do,  or  the  mode  of  doing,  that  we  en 
counter  difficulty,  and  this  difficulty  is  not  in  making 
the  effort — not  in  willing  to  learn — but  in  the  learning 
of  these  things,  which  we  may  freely  make  effort,  or 
will  to  do,  yet  may  not  have  the  power  to  accomplish. 


NATURAL   AND   MOEAL   NECESSITY.  219 

It  is  a]  so  to  deficiency  of  power  to  do  what  we  will,  and 
not  to  our  power,  or  freedom  to  will,  or  to  try  to  do,  that 
Edwards's  "  natural  necessity  "  applies,  and  our  inabil 
ity  to  overcome  the  difficulties  of  learning  or  deciding 
what  to  do,  really  belongs,  in  his  classification,  to  nat 
ural  and  not  to  moral  necessity  or  moral  inability. 

Another  case  of  peculiar  -difficulty  is  supposed  to 
arise  in  determining  the  particular  act,  when  of  several 
acts  there  is  no  perceivable  ground  for  preferring, 
choosing,  or  willing  one  rather  than  another.  The 
difficulty  in  willing,  is  here  a  factitious  one,  being  in 
ferred  from  the  assumed  identity  of  willing  and  choos 
ing.  Even  under  this  assumption,  such  difficulty  must 
arise  from  our  not  knowing  which  of  two  or  more  things 
is  preferable,  i.  e.  from  a  want  of  knowledge.  This 
knowledge  is  of  course  incompatible  with  the  hypothesis 
that  "  there  is  no  perceivable  ground  for  preferring." 

Edwards,  however,  admits  that  in  such  cases  the 
mind  does  adopt  some  one  of  the  acts — that  it  does  will. 
Now,  in  this,  and  in  all  the  other  cases  mentioned,  the 
question  which  concerns  the  mind's  freedom,  is  not 
how  much  difficulty  it  encounters  in  determining  its 
actions,  nor  how  much  knowledge  it  wants  or  can  ob 
tain  for  this  purpose,  but  does  it  determine  them.  If 
the  mind  determines  its  own  action,  it  must  be  free  in 
such  action.  If,  on  examination,  all  the  modes  of  grati 
fying  a  want  appear  to  be  attended  with  such  disad 
vantages  or  difficulties  that  the  mind  concludes  not  to 
try  to  gratify  it,  or  if  no  mode  whatever  can  be  found, 
then  the  mind's  effort  for  this  object  ends  with  the  pre 
liminary  examination,  which,  though  unsuccessful,  was, 
for  aught  that  appears,  a  free  act  of  will ;  and  in  such 
case  there  is  no  subsequent  act  of  will,  free  or  other- 


220  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

wise.  There  is  a  subsequent  act  only  when  the  mind 
by  its  examination  has  determined  the  act,  and,  of 
course,  it  then  acts  freely. 

Still  another,  and  perhaps  the  greatest,  source  of 
difficulty  is  in  conflicting  wants.  We  may  want  a  cer 
tain  gratification,  which  we  may  perceive  will  bring 
with  it  or  entail  some  unpleasant  consequences.  The 
mind  examines,  that  is,  seeks  more  knowledge,  seeks 
clearer  views  of  the  effects  of  certain  actions,  to  enable 
it  to  decide  between  such  conflicting  wants. 

It  is  in  such  efforts  that  virtue  and  vice  are  mainly 
manifested  in  action  :  and  it  is  here  that  the  mischiev 
ous  tendency  of  a  system  which  makes  such  efforts  but 
necessary  links  in  a  chain  of  events,  beginning  before 
the  existence  of  the  active  agent,  and  hence  beyond  his 
control,  becomes  most  apparent.  There  are  things,  the 
doing  of  which  will  afford  us  present  pleasure,  but 
which,  being  injurious  to  others  or  to  ourselves,  make 
them  morally  wrong ;  or  which,  involving  future  pain  to 
ourselves,  the  doing  of  them  is  unwise  ;  and  conversely, 
there  are  things,  the  doing  of  which  is  attended  with 
present  pain  or  discomfort,  but  which  we  know  ought 
to  be  done  as  a  moral  duty,  or  as  required  by  a  wise 
regard  for  the  future.  Were  it  otherwise  there  would 
be  no  room  for  the  exercise  and  increase  of  virtue,  by 
self-restraint,  or  generous  effort.  I  would  here  observe 
that,  the  fact  that  an  action  is  morally  right  or  wrong, 
or  that  it  may  influence  our  future  well-being,  is  but 
one  of  the  circumstances,  which  the  mind  considers  in 
determining  its  effort ;  that  it  can  will  against  its  moral 
convictions  of  right ;  and  even  against  what  it  knows 
to  be  for  its  own  ultimate  good,  is  certainly  no  proof 
of  a  want  of  freedom  in  willing,  but  rather  the  contrary. 


NATURAL  AND  MORAL   NECESSITY.  221 

That  a  man  does  not  always  will  in  conformity  to 
what  he  knows  to  be  right,  or  that  he  knowingly  wills 
against  his  own  ultimate  benefit,  only  proves  that  he  is 
not  wholly  pure  in  morals,  or  perfect  in  wisdom,  and  not 
that  he  does  not  will  freely.  The  martyr,  who  nobly 
dies  by  torture,  rather  than  renounce  truth  or  prin 
ciple,  and  the  base  wretch,  who  shrinks  from  any  sacri 
fice  to  duty,  and,  for  present  personal  gratification,  vio 
lates  all  his  convictions  of  right ;  both  act,  or  will,  with 
equal  freedom. 

From  their  actions,  we  infer  that  they  are  beings 
with  very  different  characters,  and  if,  with  this  differ 
ence,  we  should  find  them  acting  alike,  we  might  sus 
pect  that  their  actions  were  influenced  or  determined, 
by  some  common  cause,  external  to  the  one  or  the 
other,  or  to  both  of  them ;  so  that  this  diversity  of 
action  is  an  indication  of  self-control  or  freedom,  rather 
than  of  necessity.  How  this  difference  in  character 
came  about,  is  not  strictly  material  to  the  question, — 
does  the  intelligent  being,  such  as  he  is,  will  freely  ?  To 
make  or  influence  his  own  character,  might  argue  a 
wider  range  of  action,  and  with  it  a  more  extended 
sphere  of  freedom,  which,  in  conformity  to  the  views 
stated  in  Book  I,  would  imply  an  extension  of  knowl 
edge  also.  In  unison  with  this,  we  find  that  the  mode 
in  which  the  character  can  be  effected,  is  by  increase 
of  knowledge,  for  which  man,  if  not  the  lower  animals, 
can  put  forth  intelligent  efforts.  In  the  first  place, 
through  the  moral  sense,  we  all  know  what,  for  us,  is 
right  or  wrong ;  and  with  this  knowledge  it  is  uni 
versally  admitted,  that  it  is  always  most  wise  and  bene 
ficial  to  do  the  right,  but,  as  before  observed,  such  gen 
eral  abstract  propositions  have  little  influence  on  our 


222       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

voluntary  actions.  We  may  not  be  quite  sure  that  the 
case  in  hand  is  not  an  exception  to  the  general  rule. 
We"  may  not  perceive  how  the  rule  can  apply  and 
distrust  it.  We  are  wanting  in  faith.  The  faith  is 
acquired  by  increase  of  knowledge ;  for  the  general 
proposition  being  admitted,  it  follows,  that  with 
sufficient  knowledge,  it  will  become  obvious  in  each 
particular  case,  that  doing  right  is  most  wise  and  bene 
ficial.  We  may  thus  come  to  perceive  and  know  the 
particular  benefits  which  will  accrue  from  right  action, 
and  when,  by  mature  reflection,  our  faith  in  the  cer 
tainty  of  Such  future  benefits  is  made  perfect,  we  sub 
mit  to  present  privation  and  suffering  to  attain  them, 
as  readily  as  the  merchant  foregoes  present  enjoyments 
purchasable  with  his  money,  and  parts  with  it,  in  the 
confident  belief  of  large  future  gains  ;  or,  as  a  man  in  a 
ship  on  fire,  leaps  into  mid  ocean,  when  he  perceives 
that  if  he  does  not,  a  worse  fate  is  inevitable.  When 
we  have  settled  a  number  of  individual  cases  sustaining 
the  general  rule,  have  clearly  perceived  the  particular 
advantages  of  each,  and  then,  by  the  test  of  actual  ex 
perience,  found  that  the  results  of  actions  morally  right 
are  most  satisfactory  to  us,  our  faith  in  the  general 
proposition  is  confirmed  and  its  influence  increased. 
By  such  investigations,  and  such  actual  experience,  we 
may  come  to  associate  moral  right  in  our  efforts  with 
the  most  beneficial  results,  till  right  action  becomes 
habitual. 

Actual  experience  is  in  some  respects  most  effec 
tive  ;  but  mature  reflection,  or  the  abstract  investiga 
tion  of  conceivable  cases  will  fulfil  the  same  intention, 
and  has  the  advantage  which  calm  and  disinterested 
thought  has  over  the  hasty  processes  required  by  the 


NATUEAL   AND   MOEAL   NECESSITY.  223 

emergencies  of  action,  in  which  we  are  often  unduly 
influenced  by  what  appears  prominent  and  important 
only  because  it  is  imminent.  Such  investigations  will 
aid  us  to  overcome  the  difficulty  which  there  often  is 
in  our  concluding  to  sacrifice  present  pleasure,  or  to 
suffer  present  pain,  to  secure  the  prospective  benefits 
of  right  action.  By  repeatedly  assuring  ourselves  of 
these  benefits,  and  dwelling  upon  them,  they  are  so 
brought  home  to  our  affection  that  the  right  actions, 
with  which  they  are  thus  familiarly  associated,  become 
the  subjects  of  cultivated  secondary  wants,  and,  as  such, 
conflict  with  and  at  least  tend  to  countervail  the  imme 
diate  temptations  and  inducements  to  wrong  action. 
It  is  thus  that  the  knowledge  acquired  by  our  own 
efforts,  or  imparted  to  us  by  any  extrinsic  agency, 
human  or  divine,  becomes  a  means  of  influencing  our 
actions  at  their  source  in  want.  As  before  observed, 
what  we  may  have  accomplished  in  this  way  by  our 
own  efforts,  has,  from  the  greater  value  which  we  at 
tach  to  the  results  of  our  own  care  and  labor,  the  ad 
vantage  over  what  may  have  been  otherwise  obtained. 
From  these  views  it  appears  not  only  that  man,  being 
what  he  is,  is  free ;  but  that  what  he  morally  is,  or 
may  become,  in  a  great  measure  depends  on  his  own 
efforts,  though  he  may  be  aided  by  extrinsic  intelli 
gences.  Among  these  aids  we  may  note  the  influence 
of  the  moral  sense,  and  our  desire  to  preserve  our  own 
self-respect,  both  of  which  are  implanted  in  us  by  the 
Creator,  and  through  which  the  mutilation  and  degra 
dation  of  the  soul,  by  intended  wrong  doing,  are  precon 
ceived  and  painfully  felt  in  advance  of  the  act ;  while 
our  desire  for  the  esteem  of  others  makes  way  for  a 
virtuous  influence  by  their  approval  of  right  and  repro- 


224       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

bation  of  wrong,  a  duty  which  all  should  fearlessly  and 
honestly  perform. 

By  means  of  the  mind's  ability  to  create  and  to  con 
template  imaginary  cases,  its  power  of  forming  its  own 
character,  may  in  a  great  measure  be  removed  from  the 
influence  of  these  extrinsic  circumstances  which  furnish 
the  occasions  for  outward  action,  and  from  the  exciting 
and  selfish  inducements  which  often  attend  it. 

Now  returning  to  our  argument  it  appears  that  the 
difficulties  which  we  have  considered  are  not  in  the 
province  of  the  will,  but  of  the  understanding,  and  that 
they  arise  from  our  deficiency  in  the  knowledge  required 
to  find  the  comparative  measure  of  various  existing 
circumstances,  or  future  effects,  or  conflicting  wants ; 
or,  to  reconcile  some  of  these  wants,  or  the  mode  of 
their  gratification,  with  moral  right ;  which  deficiency 
we  may  in  some  degree  supply  by  effort, — though  some 
times  we  cannot  surmount  this  difficulty,  and  often 
cannot  do  it  in  time  to  apply  the  knowledge  or  the 
truth  found  to  direct  our  actions. 

"We  come  now  to  consider  the  particular  cases  by 
which  Edwards  illustrates  moral  ability,  or  what  may 
be  termed  a  negative  moral  necessity.  "  To  give  some 
instances  of  this  moral  inability.  A  woman  of  great 
honor  and  chastity  may  have  a  moral  inability  to  pros 
titute  herself  to  her  slave, — a  child,  of  great  love  and 
duty  to  his  parents,  may  be  unable  to  be  willing  to  kill 
his  father.  A  very  lascivious  man,  in  case  of  certain 
opportunities  and  temptations,  and  in  the  absence  of 
such  and  such  restraints,  may  be  unable  to  forbear 
gratifying  his  lust.  A  drunkard,  under  such  and  such 
circumstances,  may  be  unable  to  forbear  taking  of 
strong  drink.  A  very  malicious  man  may  be  unable 


NATURAL   AND   MOEAL   NECESSITY.  225 

to  exert  benevolent  acts  to  an  enemy,  or  to  desire  his 
prosperity  ;  yea.  some  may  be  so  under  the  power  of  a 
vile  disposition,  that  they  may  be  unable  to  love  those 
who  are  most  worthy  of  their  esteem  and  affection.  A 
strong  habit  of  virtue  and  great  degree  of  holiness  may 
cause  a  moral  inability  to  love  wickedness  in  general, 
may  render  a  man  unable  to  take  complacence  in 
wicked  persons,  or  things ;  or  to  choose  a  wicked  life 
and  prefer  it  to  a  virtuous  life.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  great  degree  of  habitual  wickedness  may  lay  a 
man  under  an  inability  to  love  and  choose  holiness ; 
and  render  him  utterly  unable  to  love  an  infinitely  holy 
being,  or  to  choose  and  cleave  to  him  as  his  chief  good." 
(Sec.  4,  pp.  32,  33.) 

Preparatory  to  an  examination  of  these  cases  it  is 
important  to  know  what  Edwards  means  by  "  Moral 
Inability."  He  says,  "  Moral  Inability  consists  *  *  * 
either  in  the  want  of  inclination  ;  or  the  strength  of  a 
contrary  inclination  ;  or  the  want  of  sufficient  motives 
in  view  to  induce  and  excite  the  act  of  the  will,  or  the 
strength  of  apparent  motives  to  the  contrary.  Or  both 
these  may  be  resolved  into  one  ;  and  it  may  be  said  in 
one  word,  that  moral  inability  consists  in  the  opposition 
or  want  of  inclination.  For  when  a  person  is  unable 
to  will  or  choose  such  a  thing,  through  a  defect  of  mo 
tives,  or  the  prevalence  of  contrary  motives,  it  is  the 
same  thing  as  being  unable  through  the  want  of  an  in 
clination,  or  the  prevalence  of  a  contrary  inclination." 
(Part  I.  Sec.  4,  p.  32.) 

This  quotation  fully  confirms  my  previous  state 
ment  that  Edwards  uses  motive  as  an  equivalent  for 
jiclination-. 

We  must  also  still  bear  in  mind  that  he  uses  the 
10* 


226       KEVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

words  inclination,  preference  and  choice,  as  synonyms 
of  will.  Inclination  can  only  exist  in  connection  with 
some  want,  and  as  a  consequence,  though  not  a  neces 
sary  consequence  of  it,  other  conditions  being  requisite. 

In  the  second  of  the  cases  just  quoted  from  Ed 
wards,  he  uses  the  phrase  " unable  to  be  willing"  and 
he  must  mean  to  imply  the  same  in  the  other  cases, 
and  not  an  inability  to  do  the  thing  spoken  of,  as  other 
wise  they  would  be  irrelevant.  His  first  case  is  per 
haps  the  strongest.  Supplying  this  ellipsis  it  reads 
thus,  "  A  'woman  of  great  honor  and  chastity  may 
have  a  moral  inability  to  T}6  willing  to  prostitute  her 
self  to  her  slave."  In  this,  for  "  moral  inability"  sub 
stitute  its  equivalent  as  above  defined  by  Edwards, 
"  opposition  or  want  of  inclination,"  and  again  for  in 
clination,  his  equivalent  for  it,  will  (choice  or  prefer 
ence),  and  the  assertion  reads,  A  woman  of  great  honor 
or  chastity,  may  have  an  opposition,  or  want  of  will, 
to  be  willing  to  prostitute  herself  to  her  slave  ;  that  is, 
she  cannot  will  what  she  does  not  will,  or  what  she  op 
poses  by  will.  The  same  thing  appears  more  directly, 
by  taking  the  wrords  in  their  ordinary  import  without 
tracing  them  through  Edwards's  peculiar  definitions. 
"  A  woman  of  great  honor  and  chastity  "  is  a  woman, 
who  is  unwilling  to  prostitute  herself ;  and  to  will  to 
prostitute  herself  would  be  to  will  and  not  will,  or  to 
."be  willing  and  unwilling  at  the  same  time;  or,  still 
shorter,  to  be  chaste  and  unchaste  at  the  same  time, 
contradictions  which  Omnipotence  and  Omniscience 
could  not  reconcile,  and  which,  could  they  be  recon 
ciled,  would  militate,  at  least  as  little  against,  as  in 
favor  of,  freedom  in  willing. 

In  Edwards's  second  case,  the  denial  of  his  state- 


•  NATURAL   AND  MORAL   NECESSITY.  227 

ment  does  not,  of  necessity,  involve  any  contradiction 
in  terms.  Nor  is  the  statement  of  necessity  true.  The 
contrary  is  not  only  conceivable,  but  it  is  conceded  as  a 
fact,  that  in  a  portion  of  India  it  is  deemed  a  filial  duty 
of  the  child  to  kill  his  father,  when  suffering  from  the 
infirmities  of  age.  The  belief  or  ideas,  the  knowledge 
of  the  child,  there  indicates  this  act,  which  to  him  may 
be  so  unpleasant,  that  only  "  great  love  and  duty  to  his 
parent"  would  induce  him  to  perform  it.  The  child 
here  knows  a  mode  of  action,  which  reconciles  the  kill 
ing  of  his  father  with  his  own  sense  of  "  love  and  duty  " 
to  him,  and,  even  though  he  encounter  the  difficulty 
of  reconciling  it  with  conflicting  wants,  he  may  adopt  it. 
The  other  cases  would  only  call  forth  analogous  remarks. 
All  these  cases  are  more  or  less  analogous  to  that 
of  a  being,  pure  and  noble,  being  unable  to  will  what  is 
impure  and  ignoble,  because  he  has  no  want  which  will 
be  gratified  thereby,  or  because  he  has  a  conflicting 
want,  which,  in  his  judgment,  should  be  gratified.  If, 
then,  the  absence  of  the  want,  or  the  presence  of  an 
equivalent  conflicting  want,  is  the  reason  of  the  moral 
inability  in  the  instances  given  by  Edwards,  such  in 
ability  does  not  conflict  with  freedom  in  willing.  When 
there  is  no  willing,  there  cannot  be  either  freedom  or 
necessity  in  willing ;  and  a  man's  having  freedom  to 
will  what,  or  when  he  does  not  want  to  will,  or  to  will 
in  opposition  to  his  paramount  want,  or  to  his  inclina 
tion,  were  it  possible,  would  not  be  freedom  at  all ;  and 
the  inability  to  will  what,  or  when  he  does  not  want  to 
will,  is  not  opposed  to  freedom.  Such  ideas  of  freedom 
are  absurd  and  contradictory.  It  must  be  borne  in 
mind,  that  we  are  not  now  considering  the  question 
how  a  man  comes  to  be  virtuous  or  vicious,  or  what- 


REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

ever  he  may  be,  but  the  freedom  of  his  mind  in  willing, 
under  all  the  conditions  and  circumstances  existing  at 
the  time  of  willing,  whether  that  be  at  the  time  of  the 
first  act  of  will  to  gratify  an  innate  want  by  means 
intuitively  known  ;  or  subsequently,  when  other  wants 
have  been  developed  and  other  knowledge  acquired, 
and  conflicting  combinations  of  them  have  arisen,  re 
quiring  much  preliminary  effort  to  fully  apprehend  and 
wisely  to  judge  or  decide. 

If  the  foregoing  views  are  correct,  the  whole  of  the 
argument  of  Edwards  in  regard  to  increasing  the  diffi 
culty,  unfil  it  surmounts  the  power  of  the  mind  to 
choose,  prefer,  or  will,  is  unavailing  to  prove  necessity  ; 
nor  have  his  illustrations  of  moral  necessity  or  of  moral 
inability  any  such  tendency,  but  on  the  contrary,  both 
arguments,  and  the  illustrations  of  them,  really  indicate 
that  the  mind  is  of  necessity  free  in  willing. 

I  would  here  further  observe,  that  in  regard  to  such 
internal  motives,  as  "previous  bias  or  inclination," 
which  must  be  either  previous  conclusions  or  prefer 
ences,  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose,  until  the  mind  has 
actually  willed,  or  at  least  has  finished  its  preparatory 
deliberation,  and  while  it  is  yet  opposing,  or  comparing, 
or  seeking  new  views,  new  knowledge,  to  oppose  to  or  to 
compare  with  the  old,  that,  by  this  process,  it  may  not 
change  any  previous  bias  or  inclination,  and  vary  the 
result,  or  the  act  of  will,  so  that  it  will  conform  to  such 
change ;  there  is  no  NECESSITY  to  the  contrary.  "  Previous 
bias,  or  inclination,"  though  not,  as  Edwards's  defini 
tions  would  make  it,  already  a  state  of  willing,  is  such 
knowledge  as  the  mind  may  immediately  act  upon,  and 
is  then  closely  connected  with  the  act  of  will.  In 
some  cases  our  acting  from  previous  bias  or  inclination  is 


NATURAL   AND   MORAL   NECESSITY.  229 

merely  substituting  the  memory  of  a  preference,  or  of  a 
reason,  or  of  a  mode  of  "action,  which  has  before  been 
perceived  and  approved  for  present  investigation.  But 
if  the  mind  does  not  will  freely,  there  is  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  its  previous  state  or  condition,  by  which 
must  be  meant,  previous  to  the  act  of  will,  will  in 
fluence  it  at  all  in  willing.  The  "bias  and  inclination  are 
of  the  mind,  and  can  affect  the  mind  in  willing  only  as 
this  biassed  or  inclined  mind  itself  controls  its  will.  If 
something  else  than  this  mind  controls  its  will,  its  own 
bias  or  inclination  can  have  no  necessary  influence 
whatever  upon  its  will. 

Again,  "  a  previous  bias  or  inclination  or  the  mo 
tive  presented,"  must  be  a  previous  preference ;  and 
Edwards  virtually  says  so.  (Part  I.  pp.  2  and  32.) 
Hence  as  he  uses  the  terms,  this  previous  preference  or 
inclination  is  a  previous  choice,  or  act  of  will ;  and  we 
have  in  one  choice  or  preference,  the  motives  for 
another  choice  or  preference,  the  first  or  motive  choice, 
requiring  a  cause  for  its  existence  as  much  as  the  latter, 
and  no  advance  is  thus  made  toward  a  solution  of  the 
problem  as  to  what  determines  the  mind  in  choosing 
or  willing. 

It  will  be  perceived  that  much  of  the  argument 
which.  Edwards  deduces  from  the  instances  we  have 
quoted,  rests  upon  a  supposed  power  in  habit.  As  in 
the  case  of  "  nature  of  things,"  and  "  inclination,"  or 
"  motive,"  Edwards  seems  to  have  adopted  this  term  as 
representing  a  power  or  cause,  without  defining  what 
it  is,  or  showing  any  attributes  by  which  it  can  become 
cause  of  any  effects.  I  would  here  also  suggest  that 
there  is  no  certainty  that  habits,  however  long  estab 
lished,  will  continue ;  and,  of  course,  they  imply  no 


230       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

necessity  of  continuance.  There  is  no  necessity  that  the 
acts  of  a  man,  heretofore  uniformly  vicious,  will  con 
tinue  to  be  vicious  ;  and  the  only  ground  of  probability 
that  they  will  be  vicious  is  that  he  wills  freely.  If  the 
willing  is  not  the  free  act  of  the  vicious  man,  but  is 
controlled  by  some  other  being  or  power,  then  the 
vicious  habits  or  propensities  of  the  vicious  man  can 
have  no  necessary  connection  with  the  willing  of  the 
vicious  acts,  and  his  will,  being  controlled,  constrained, 
or  coerced,  will  as  probably  be  opposed  to  his  habits 
and  propensities  as  in  conformity  to  them.  The  result 
we  arrived  at  (Book  I.  chap,  xi.),  that  habit  is  but  the 
mind's  using  a  plan  of  action,  formed  on  some  previous 
like  occasion,  instead  of  making  a  new  plan  each  time, 
takes  from  habit  even  the  appearance  of  a  distinct 
power,  controlling  our  voluntary  actions.  It  shows 
that  it  has  no  other  effect  than  to  obviate  the  necessity 
of  present  investigation.  The  results  thus  previously 
obtained,  become  a  part  of  the  knowledge  of  the  mind, 
which  it  uses  in  determining  its  mode  of  action,  as  it 
does  any  other  knowledge.  Such  use  of  its  knowledge, 
we  have  already  shown,  does  not  conflict  with  its  free 
dom  in  willing.  If  it  is  peculiar  to  this  memory  of 
former  results,  and  the  familiar  association  of  previous 
action  with  consequent  gratification,  that  the  want  is 
thereby  intensified,  and,  at  the  same  time,  more 
promptly  and  easily  gratified  by  the  mind's  being  re 
lieved  from  the  labor  of  new  investigation  as  to  the 
mode,  these  facts  become  but  a  portion  of  the  known 
circumstances  which  the  mind  considers  preparatory  to 
deciding  in  regard  to  its  final  effort ;  and  the  existence  of 
circumstances  among  and  with  which  to  exercise  its 
powers  of  comparing,  judging,  &c.,  in  selecting,  we  have 


NATURAL   AND   MOEAL   NECESTITY.  231 

already  shown,  does  not  conflict  with  the  freedom  of  the 
mind  in  willing,  but  only  furnishes  occasion  for  its  ex 
ercise.  That  it  wills  to  adopt  the  results  of  former 
investigation,  or  to  copy  former  action,  rather  than  re 
sort  to  new  inquiry,  or  seek  new  modes,  is  no  reason  to 
infer  that,  in  so  doing,  it  does  not  will  freely.  It  mani 
fests  as  much  freedom  in  adopting  these  former  results 
as  it  could  in  reinvestigation.  Adopting  the  habitual 
mode  will  be  more  easy  and  generally  quicker ;  and, 
these  are  so  far  inducements  or  reasons  to  the  mind  for 
adopting  it,  when  it  wants  to  save  labor  and  time  ;  but 
if  the  mind  wants  exercise  and  to  occupy  its  time,  or  to 
acquire,  or  test  new  modes,  their  influences  will  be 
reversed.  There  is  nothing  then,  in  habit,  conflicting 
with  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing.  That,  by  a 
figure  of  speech,  a  man  is  often  said  to  be  a  slave  to  his 
habits,  arises  from  two  distinct  reasons.  By  habitual 
gratification,  some  of  our  wants  constitutionally  acquire 
great  intensity.  When,  for  instance,  the  nervous  sys 
tem  has  long  been  habitually  excited,  its  constitution 
is  so  changed,  that  remissionpf  the  excitement  produces 
the  most  painful  sensations ;  and,  in  aggravated  cases, 
delirium  and  death.  The  want,  in  such  cases,  becomes 
intense  and  its  demand  for  relief,  as  the  demand  for 
safety  in  case  of  extreme  danger,  usually  overbalances 
all  other  considerations.  The  common  saying,  that, 
a  man  is  a  slave  to  Ms  habits,  has  a  foundation  also  in 
the  fact  that  it  often  happens,  that  when  a  man  has 
habitually  adopted  certain  modes  of  action,  he  ceases  to 
make  effort  for  further  progress  in  that  direction  ;  but 
this  indicates  not  an  absence  of  freedom  in  the  effort 
which  is  made,  but  the  absence  of  any  effort  to  learn 
new  or  better  modes. 


REVIEW    OF    EDWARDS    ON    THE   WILL. 

As  the  consciousness  of  our  own  acting  lessens  as  the 
effort  diminishes,  it  is  not  surprising  that  we  should  fail 
to  recognize  our  own  agency  in  those  efforts,  which 
habit  has  made  so  easy,  so  natural,  that  we  are  hardly 
aware  that  they  require  from  us  any  mental  exertion 
whatever ;  and  hence  we  are  easily  led  to  attribute 
them  to  some  extrinsic  power,  or  to  consider  habit  itself 
as  such  a  power. 

The  only  case,  other  than  habit,  which  Edwards 
gives  of  moral  necessity,  is  that  of  "  previous  bias  or 
inclination,"  and  this,  as  before  shown,  being  in  his  sys 
tem  the  same  as  preference,  choice  and  will,  the  argu 
ment  or  assertion  that  a  man  must  will  in  conformity 
to  such  moral  motives  as  "  bias  or  inclination,"  in  that 
system  only  proves  that,  under  the  influence  ^of  moral 
necessity,  he  must  will  in  conformity  to  what  he  wills. 

I  have  already  shown  that  Edwards' s  views  and 
assertions  on  this  point  together  involve  a  necessary 
freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing,  and  having  founded  the 
reasoning,  not  upon  the  erroneous  dogma  that  will, 
choice,  preference  and  inclination .  are  identical ;  but 
only  upon  such  of  his  positions  as  are  admitted,  the  con 
clusion  does  not  merely  convict  him  of  inconsistency  in 
such  views  and  assertions,  but  argues  the  actual  exist 
ence  of  such  freedom.  It  has  also  been  shown  that 
the  influence  of  natural  necessity,  or  the  action  of  causes 
other  than  our  own  will,  can  only  frustrate  our  effort ; 
and  this  subsequent  result  cannot  militate  against  the 
freedom  of  the  mind's  act  of  willing. 


CHAPTER   IY. 

SELF-DETERMINATION. 

IN  regard  to  the  argument  of  Edwards  in  his  Part 
II.  Sec.  1,  against  the  WILL'S  self -determining  power, 
I  would  remark  that  it  is  irrelevant  to  my  position, 
which  not  only  does  not  involve  that  dogma,  but  as 
serts,  not  that  the  WILL,  but  that  the  mind,  the  active 
being,  determines  its  own  volition,  and  that  it  does  this 
by  means  of  its  knowledge ;  and  further,  that  the 
choice,  which,  it  is  admitted  in  most  if  not  in  all  cases, 
precedes  the  effort,  or  act  of  will,  is  not,  as  Edwards 
asserts,  itself  an  act  of  will,  but  is  the  knowledge  of  the 
mind  that  one  thing  is  superior  to  another,  or  suits  us 
better  than  other  things  ;  this  knowledge  being  always 
a*  simple  mental  perception,  to  which  previous  effort 
may,  or  may  not  have  been  requisite ;  and  that  every 
act  of  will  is  a  beginning  of  new  action,  independent 
of  all  previous  actions,  which  in  no  wise  of  themselves 
affect,  or  influence  the  new  action  ;  though  the  Jcnowl* 
edge  acquired  in,  or  by  such  previous  actions,  being 
used  by  the  mind  to  direct  this  new  action,  may  be  to 
it  the  reason  for  its  acting,  or  for  the  manner  of  its  act 
ing  ;  and  that,  in  the  use  of  such  knowledge,  to  direct, 


234:  KEVIEW    OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

or  adapt  its  action  to  the  occasion,  or  to  its  want,  it  be 
gins  with  the  intuitive  knowledge,  that  it-  can,  by  effort 
or  will,  put  its  own  being  in  action  and  use  and  give 
direction  to  its  own  powers.     But  some  of  his  reasoning 
seems  to  imply,  that  the  mind  itself,  in  choosing  or 
willing,  is  subject  to  external  constraint  or  control ;  and, 
in  this  view,  it  is  important  to  examine  it.     After  stat 
ing  the  position  of  his  opponents,  "  that  the  person  IN 
the  exercise  of  a  power  of  willing  and  choosing,  or  the 
soul,  acting  voluntarily,  determines  "  all  the  free  acts  of 
the  will,  Edwards  says,  "  Therefore,  if  the  will  deter 
mines  all  its  own  free  acts,  the  soul  determines  all  the 
free  acts  of  the  will,  IN  the  exercise  of  a  power  of  will 
ing  and  choosing ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  it  de 
termines  them  of  choice  ;  it  determines  its  own  acts  BY 
choosing  its  own  acts.     If  the  will  determines  the  will, 
then  choice  orders,  and  determines  the  choice  ;  and  acts 
of  choice  are  subject  to  the  decision  and  follow  the  con 
duct  of  other  acts  of  choice.     And,  therefore,  if  the  will 
determines  all  its  own  free  acts,  then  every  free  act  of 
choice  is  determined  by  a  preceding  act  of  choice, 
choosing  that  act.     And  if  that  preceding  act  of  the 
will  or  choice  be  also  a  free  act,  then,  by  these  prin 
ciples  in  this  act  too,  the  will  is  self-determined ;  that 
is,  this,  in  like  manner,  is  an  act  that  the  soul  volun 
tarily  chooses ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  it  is  an  act 
determined  still  by  a  preceding  act  of  the  will,  choosing 
that.     And  the  like  may  again  be  observed  of  the  last 
mentioned  act ;  which  brings  us  directly  to  a  contradic 
tion  ;  for  it  supposes  an  act  of  the  will,  preceding  the 
first  act  in  the  whole  train,  directing  and  determining 
the  rest ;  or  a  free  act  of  the  will,  before  the  first  free 
act  of  the  will.     Or  else,  we  must  coine  at  last  to  an 


SELF-DETERMINATION.  235 

act  of  the  will,  determining  the  consequent  acts,  where 
in  the  will  is  not  self-determined,  and  so  is  not  a  free 
act  in  this  notion  of  freedom  ;  but  if  the  first  act  in  the 
train,  determining  and  fixing  the  rest,  be  not  free,  none 
of  them  all  can  be  free  ;  as  is  manifest  at  first  view,  bull 
shall  be  demonstrated  presently  "  (p.  44).  To  the  state 
ment  of  his  opponents,  he  herein  only  adds,  as  a  postu 
late,  that  acts  of  choice  and  acts  of  will  are  equivalent 
expressions  ;  and  if  he  adopts  the  axiom,  that,  if  a  state 
ment  when  expressed  in  one  set  of  terms  is  true,  it  is 
also  true  when,  for  any  of  those  terms,  their  equivalents 
are  substituted,  he  might,  under  the  postulate,  argue 
that  whatever  was  truly  asserted  of  acts  of  will,  might 
likewise  be  asserted  of  acts  of  choice,  and  vice  versa ; 
but  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  how,  with  such  data,  he 
can  get  beyond  this.  His  changing  of  the  word  in  to 
~by  may  affect  the  whole  course  of  the  argument.  To 
illustrate  this,  let  it  be  said,  that  a  body  changes  its 
position  in  moving,  and  moves  in  changing  its  position. 
This  may  imply  only  that  the  body  may  be  moved,,  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  that  its  position  may  be 
changed,  or,  if  the  body  has  a  self-moving  faculty,  that 
it  may  move  itself.  The  two  phrases  really,  only  recip 
rocally  define  or  explain  each  other,  but  if  we  connect 
them  with  the  term  ~by  instead  of  in,  and  use  ~by  as  an 
abbreviation  of  ~by  means  of  or,  ~by  reason  of,  or  by  cause 
of,  as  is  not  uncommon,  though  we  never  say  in  means 
of,  &c.,  we  might  infer  that  the  cause  of  the  body's  mo 
tion  was  its  change  of  position,  and,  vice  versa,  that  the 
cause  of  its  change  of  position  was  its  motion ;  and 
hence,  infer  that  the  cause  must  be  both  before  and 
after  the  effect,  or  each  alternately  before  the  other,  in 
an  infinite  series,  so  that  a  body  never  could  begin  tc 


236  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS    ON    THE   WILL. 

move,  or  to  be  moved ;  and  even,  if  under  such  conditions, 
motion  could  be  conceived  of  as  existing  from  eternity, 
it  would  seem  to  be  impossible  for  it  to  be  continued ; 
for  a  body,  though  in  motion,  could  not  change  its  posi 
tion  before  it  moved,  nor  move  before  it  changed  its 
position.  It  does  one  m  doing  the  other,  not  ~by  doing 
the  other  ;  and  it  does  one  in  doing  the  other,  only  be 
cause  the  one  and  the  other  are  the  same  thing.  So, 
if  we  admit,  with  Edwards,  that  an  act  of  willing  and 
choosing  are  the  same  thing,  all  that  he  can  legitimately 
deduce  from  the  statement  of  his  opponents,  that  "  the 
soul  determines  all  the  free  acts  of  the  will,  in  the  exer 
cise  of  a  power  of  willing,"  is  that,  if  so,  the  soul  freely 
wills  in  choosing,  or  freely  chooses  in  willing,  or  freely 
chooses  in  freely  choosing.  ./-  y  V  ^j 

Edwards  defines  will  ro  be  that  l)y  which  the  mind 
chooses  anything,  and  then  says,  "  an  act  of  the  will  is 
the  same  as  an  act  of  choosing,  or  choice  /  "  and  by 
other  expressions  completely  identifies  will  and  choice. 
Hence,  he  may  as  well  say  that/^e  mind  wills  by 
choosing,  or  by  the  choice,  as  that  it  chooses  by  the 
will ;  and  from  these  two  positions  of  his  it  might  be 
argued  that,  as  the  mind  wills  by  choosing,  or  chooses 
by  willing,  the  willing  and  choosing  must  alternately 
precede  each  other,  as  cause  without  limit,  and  that  there 
could  be  no  first  willing  or  choosing ;  thus  involving 
in  his  own  statement  the  very  absurdity  which  he 
charges  upon  his  opponents,  and  which  they  seem  to 
have  avoided  by  the  use  of  the  word  IN,  which  Ed 
wards,  in  making  out  his  position  against  them,  changes 

tO  BY. 

The  position  of  his  opponents  which  Edwards  under 
takes  to  disprove,  is,  as  quoted  by  himself,  that  "  the 


SELF-DETERMINATION.  237 

soul  determines  all  the  free  acts  of  the  will  IN  the  exer 
cise  of  a  power  of  willing,  or  choosing,"  which  is  equiv 
alent  to  saying  that  the  soul,  in  its  own  free  act  of  will, 
determines  itself  IN  that  act  /  whereas,  the  position, 
which  he  really  combats,  is  the  very  different  one,  that 
the  soul,  in  its  own  free  act  of  will,  determines  itself  BY 
a  previous  act  of  will ;  the  disproving  of  which  does  not 
at  all  affect  the  position  of  his  opponents,  as  above 
stated,  though  it  may  apply  to  some  other  of  their  as 
sertions.  This  changing  IN  to  BY  is  repeated  and  runs 
through  the  whole  argument.  We  may  also  observe  in 
it  much  ambiguity  and  confusion  from  using  the  words 
choice  or  choosing,  as  sometimes  meaning  the  process 
of  choosing,  and  sometimes  as  the  final  result  of  the 
process  ;  and  also  using  the  terms  mind  and  will  some 
times  as  equivalents,  and  sometimes  in  a  manner  im 
plying  doubt  as  to  whether  it  is  the  MIND,  or  the  WILL, 
which  determines,  or  is  determined. 

Edwards  appears  not  to  recognize  that  intelligence, 
mind,  may  itself  be  cause.  He  saySj  "  but  to  say  that 
the  will  or  mind  orders,  influences,  or  determines  itself 
to  exert  such  an  act  as  it  does,  BY  the  very  exertion  it 
self,  is  to  make  the  exertion  both  cause  and  effect." 
This  whole  phraseology  is  founded  on  the  idea  that 
mind  is  not  itself  a  cause  directly  producing  effects  by 
its  activity  or  power  in  willing  ;  but  that  it  must  first 
"order  something,  in  itself,  to  will  them  ;  and  further,  it 
is  only  by  the  use  of  the  word  BY,  that  he  infers,  even 
from  that  phraseology,  that  the  exertion  is  the  cause 
of  the  exertion.  It  would  seem  to  be  proper  to  call 
that  which  "  orders,  influences  and  determines "  the 
exertion,  i.  e.  the  mind  itself,  the  cause  of  that  exertion, 
rather  than  make  another  exertion  of  that  same  mind 


238       REVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

the  cause ;  and  if  the  term  IN  had  been  used  in  place 
of  BY,  this  would  have  become  so  apparent,  that  it  could 
hardly  have  escaped  observation.  I  trust  that  what  I 
have  said,  in  Book  First  of  this  work,  on  the  subjects 
of  spirit  and  matter  as  cause,  is  sufficient  to  show,  that 
it  may  be  at  least  as  proper  to  refer  any  effect  directly 
to  mind  as  cause,  as  to  any  material  or  other  conceiv 
able  cause. 

It  is  true,  that  before  an  act  of  will,  there  must  be 
something  to  move  the  mind  to  action,  for,  though  the 
mind  is  cause,  it  is  a  cause  which,  being  intelligent, 
does  not  act  without  a  reason.  Edwards  finds  this 
prime  mover  in  his  "  motives,"  which  he  not  only  sup 
poses  to  move  the  mind,  but  to  determine  or  give  direc 
tion  to  its  movement  in  the  act  of  willing.  I  have  sup 
posed  that  want  arouses  the  mind  to  action,  and  that 
the  mind  directs  that  action  by  means  of  its  knowledge 
already  possessed,  adding  to  it,  when  it  seems  needed, 
that  obtained  by  its  preliminary  efforts  or  acts  of  will 
for  that  object.  Of  the  knowledge  thus  acquired  for 
the  particular  occasion,  we  may  particularly  note  that 
obtained  by  the  mind's  preliminary  efforts  in  comparing 
and  judging  of  those  preconceptions  of  the  effects  of 
its  volitions,  which,  by  its  knowledge,  innate  or 
acquired,  and  its  prophetic  power,  it  is  enabled  to  form 
in  the  future.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  this 
difference  in  our  views  hereafter ;  and  will  now  only 
remark,  that  as  already  shown,  neither  the  want,  nor 
the  knowledge,  whether  it  be  of  the  past,  present  or 
future,  innate  or  acquired,  is  a  volition  ;  and  hence, 
as  already  intimated,  even  if  the  argument  of  Edwards 
establishes  the  absurdity  of  one  volition  being  willed  by 
another,  in  which  I  do  not  differ  with  him,  it  does  not 
affect  my  position. 


SELF-DETEEMINATION.  239 

The  doctrine,  that  the  mind,  being  in  virtue  of  its 
intelligence  a  creative  first  cause,  can  originate  change, 
and  direct  that  change  by  its  present  prophetic  percep 
tions  of  the  future  effects  of  its  act  of  will,  is  directly 
opposed  to  that  which  asserts,  that  the  mind  in  willing 
is  "  determined,  directed  and  commanded  "  by  &  previous 
act  of  will,  which,  being  in  the  past,  is  now  entirely 
beyond  reach  of  the  mind's  faculty  of  will,  and  hence 
control  by  such  previous  act  would  be  as  fatal  to  the 
mind's  freedom  in  its  present  willing,  as  if  such  control 
were  by  another  being ;  if  it  be  not  wholly  destructive, 
also,  of  the  admitted  power  of  the  mind  to  will.  Even 
admitting  that  choice  is  always  a  pre-requisite  of  every 
free  act  of  will,  and  that  it  is  by  such  choice  that  the 
mind  determines  its  free  act,  still,  if  I  have  succeeded 
in  showing  that,  in  fact,  choice  is  not  itself  the  act  of 
will,  but  is  only  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge  ;  such  ad 
mission  would  still  leave  the  case  within  my  general 
position,  that  the  mind  directs  its  power  in  willing  by 
means  of  its  knowledge,  while  that  fact  leaves  no 
ground  for  the  infinite  series  with  no  possibility  of  a 
first  act,  which  Edwards  deduces  from  the  assumption 
that  choice  and  will  are  the  same ;  and  the  argument 
he  derives  from  this  infinite  series,  in  the  form  of  a 
reductio  ad  absurdum,  and  so  often  applies,  is  then 
shown  to  be  entirely  fallacious. 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

NO     EVENT     WITHOUT     A     CAUSE. 

IN  Part  II.  Sec.  3,  Edwards  says  lie  uses  the  word 
cause  "  in  a  sense,  which  is  more  extensive,  than  that 
in  which  it  is  sometimes  used,"  applying  it  to  that 
which  has  no  "  positive  efficiency,  or  influence  to  pro 
duce  a  thing,  or  bring  it  to  pass,"  but  which  u  has  truly 
the  nature  of  a  ground  or  reason  why  some  things  are, 
rather  than  others,  or  why  they  are  as  they  are,  rather 
than  otherwise  ; "  and  after  saying,  "  that  when  I  speak 
of  connection  of  causes  and  effects  I  have  respect  to 
moral  causes  as  well  as  those  that  are  called  natural  in 
distinction  from  them,  "  he  further  says,  "  Therefore  I 
sometimes  use  the  word  cause  in  this  inquiry  to  signify 
any  antecedent,  either  natural  or  moral,  positive  or 
negative,  on  which  an  event,  either  a  thing,  or  the  man 
ner  and  circumstance  of  a  thing,  so  depends,  that  it  is 
the  ground  and  reason,  either  in  whole,  or  in  part,  why 
it  is,  rather  than  not ;  or  why  it  is  as  it  is,  rather  than 
otherwise ;  or,  in  other  words,  any  antecedent  with 
which  a  consequent  event  is  so  connected,  that  it  truly 
belongs  to  the  reason  why  the  proposition,  which  laffirms 
that  event,  is  true ;  whether  it  has  any  positive  influ- 


NO   EVENT  WITHOUT   A   CAUSE.  241 

ence  or  not.  And  in  an  agreeableness  to  this,  I  some 
times  use  the  word  effect  for  the  consequence  of  another 
thing,  which  is  perhaps  rather  an  occasion  than  a  cause, 
most  properly  speaking."  Edwards  then  applies  this 
definition  to  prove  that  no  "  event  whatsoever,  and 
volition  in  particular,  can  come  to  pass  without  a  cause 
of  its  existence"  (p.  54);  or,  as  he  afterwards  says, 
"  whatsoever  begins  to  be,  which  before  was  not,  must 
have  a  cause,  why  it  then  begins  to  exist"  (p.  56). 
And  again,  "  what  is  not  necessary  in  itself,  must  have 
a  cause  "  (p.  58).* 

The  extended  meaning,  which  he  gives  to  the  word 
cause,  facilitates  this  proof,  but,  at  the  same  time,  makes 
it  doubtful  whether  such  proof  will  be  available  for  the 
purpose  he  intends.  His  object  is  to  argue  from  it, 
that  as  volition  is  an  "  event,"  or  a  "  whatsoever  that 
begins  to  be,"  it  must  have  a  cause,  it  must  be  an 
effect,  which  is  so  connected  with  the  cause  by  which  it 
is  brought  to  pass,  that  it  is  of  necessity  controlled  and 
determined  by  that  cause.  But  when  he  has  shown  a 
connection  of  a  thing  with  that  cause  in  which,  by  his 
definition,  he  includes  what  "  has  no  positive  efficiency, 
or  influence  tv  produce  a  thing r,  or  bring  it  to  pass,"  he 
cannot  properly  argue  that  such  cause  necessitates  the 
thing,  in  the  production  of  which  it  thus  has  no  "-posi 
tive  efficiency  or  influence." 

In  the  previous  section,  he  thus  states  the  proposition 
to  which  he  applies  the  argument  derived  from  the 
necessary  dependence  of  an  effect  upon  its  cause :  "  But 
certainly,  those  things  which  have  a  prior  ground  and 
reason  of  their  particular  existence,  a  cause,  which  ante 
cedently  determines  them  to  be,  and  determines  them 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXVIII. 
11 


242  KEVIEW    OF    EDWAKDS    ON   THE    WILL. 

to  be  just  as  they  are,  do  not  happen  contingently.  If 
something  foregoing,  by  a  causal  influence  and  connec 
tion,  determines  and  fixes  precisely  their  coming  to  pass 
and  the  manner  of  it,  then  it  does  not  remain  a  con-, 
tingent  thing  whether  they  shall  come  to  pass,  or  no  " 
(pp.  53,  54).  Though  this  may  be  strictly  true,  the  ne 
cessity  for  a  thing  coming  to  pass  is  evidently  not  to  be 
inferred  from  such  proposition,  by  showing  that,  that 
thing  is  connected  with  a  cause,  which  may  have  no 
causal  or  other  influence  to  produce  the  tiling r,  or  Iring  it 
to  pass  ;  for  the  very  foundation  of  the  general  proposi 
tion  is,  that  the  "  causal  influence  "  "  determines  and  fixes 
precisely  [the  thing]  coming  to  pass  and  the  manner 
of  it."  But,  though  Edwards's  definition  q£  cause  will 
not  bear  the  argument  he  rests  upon  it,  and  his  at 
tempted  demonstration  wholly  fails ;  we  are  not  dis 
posed  to  question  the  necessary  dependence  of  an  effect 
upon  its  proper  cause,  or  that  a  volition  is  such  an 
event  as  must  have  a  cause  that  determines  it ;  but  we 
deem  it  a  sufficient  answer  to  any  application  of  the 
argument  against  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing, 
to  say  that  the  mind  is  itself  the  cause  of  its  volitions, 
and  that  this  necessary  dependence  of  the  volition,  as 
an  effect,  upon  the  mind  as  a  cause,  only  proves  that 
the  mind  controls  and  determines  its  volitions,  or  its 
own  acts  in  willing  ;  and  hence,  in  them,  acts  freely. 

The  whole  question  is  involved  in  that  of  the  mind's 
being  itself  cause,  or  not.  Edwards  seems  to  deny,  or, 
at  least,  to  ignore  mind  as  cause,  and  though  his  asser 
tion  that  "  as  to  all  things  that  legin  to  le,  they  are  not 
self-existent  and  therefore  must  have  some  foundation 
of  their  existence  without  themselves"  (p.  56)  may 
really  only  admit  of  the  inference  that  the  volition 


NO   EVENT  WITHOUT   A  CAUSE.  243 

must  have  a  cause  without  itself,  he  treats  it  as  if  this 
cause  must  also  be  without  the  mind  that  wills.  He 
asserts  that  volition  is  an  act  of  mind  and,  if  he  admits 
that  mind,  in  the  act  of  willing,  acts  as  cause,  and  still 
insists  that  this  act  of  cause,  being  a  "  whatsoever  "  that 
"  begins  to  be,  which  before  was  not,  must  have  a  cause, 
why  it  then  begins  to  exist,"  he  must  mean  to  assert, 
that  for  every  such  act  of  cause  there  must  be  another 
act  of  cause ;  and  not  merely  that  for  every  act  of 
cause,  there  must  be  a  cause  to  act,  which  would  be  the 
merest  truism.  He  must  then  assert,  that  for  every  act 
of  the  mind  as  cause  of  its  volition,  there  must  be 
another  act  of  cause ;  and  this,  as  he  before  says  "  to 
say  it  [the  will]  is  caused,  influenced  and  determined 
by  something  and  yet  not  determined  by  anything 
antecedent,  either  in  order  of  time  or  nature,  is  a  con 
tradiction"  (p.  52),  must  mean,  that  for  every  such  act 
of  cause,  there  must  be  a  prior  act  of  cause ;  which, 
also,  must  have  required  another  prior  act  of  cause,  and 
there  never  could  be  a  first  act  of  cause.  Or,  if  he 
makes  a  distinction,  and  says  that  the  act  of  the  will 
of  God  is  an  event  which  has  no  such  prior  cause,  then 
the  whole  argument  fails,  for  it  must  prove  that,  as  a 
metaphysical  necessity,  there  can  be  no  event  that  be 
gins  to  be,  without  such  a  previous  act  of  cause  ex 
trinsic  to  itself,  or  it  avails  him  nothing ;  and  if  it  can 
be  said  that  the  mind  of  God  is  a  cause,  which  is  ex 
trinsic  to  its  volition,  the  same  may  be  asserted  of  the 
human  mind,  or  of  mind  generally  ;  and  even  if,  in  any 
sense  whatever,  it  could  be  said  that  the  Divine  voli 
tions  may  be  without  a  cause ;  then,  as  it  has  become 
evident  that  there  may  be  events  without  a  cause,  the 
question  immediately  arises  as  to  whether  human  voli- 


244  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

tions  are  not  such  events.  I,  by  no  means,  intend  to 
assert  that  they  are.  And  when,  in  the  next  section 
(p.  62),  Edwards  inquires  "  whether  volition  can  arise 
without  a  cause,  through  the  activity  of  the  nature  of 
the  soul,"  I  think  it  would  have  been  more  pertinent 
to  the  subject  to  have  asked,  whether  the  soul  through 
the  activity  of  its  nature  can  be  a  cause  of  volition.  He 
proceeds  to  argue  against  the  position  of  some  writers, 
who,  it  seems,  assert  the  affirmative  of  the  inquiry  as 
he  states  it ;  and,  in  so  doing,  he  thus  gives  an  affirma 
tive  answer  to  the  question  as  I  have  stated  it.  ^  The 
activity  of  the  soul  may  enable  it  to  ~be  the  cause  of 
effects  •  but  it  does  not  at  all  enable  or  help  it  to  be 
the  subject  of  effects  which  have  no  cause  "  (p.  63). 
The  first  portion  of  this  admits  all  that  is  essential  to 
prove,  that  the  soul  may  itself  be  the  cause  of  its  voli 
tions.  The  latter  portion  seems  to  indicate  a  difficulty, 
which  is,  in  fact,  wholly  removed  by  the  first ;  for  the 
soul  being  itself  the  cause  of  its  volitions,  it  is  not  in 
them,  "  the  subject  of  effects,  which  have  no  came" 
The  next  sentences  explain  the  latter  portion  of  the 
above  quotation.  "  Activity  of  nature  will  no  more 
enable  a  being  to  produce  effects  and  determine  the 
manner  of  their  existence  within  itself,  without  a  cause, 
than  out  of  itself,  in  some  other  being.  But  if  an  ac 
tive  being  should,  through  its  activity,  produce  and 
determine  an  effect  in  some  external  object,  how  absurd 
would  it  be  to  say,  that  the  effect  was  produced  without 
a  cause  "  (p.  63). 

In  reply  to  these  positions  :  the  activity  of  the  soul 
being  itself  admitted  to  be  cause,  we  may  say  con 
versely,  that  the  activity  of  the  soul  may  produce 
effects  in  itself  as  well  as  without  itself.  And  that,  if 


NO   EVENT   WITHOUT   A   CAUSE.  245 

an  active  being  should  thus,  through  its  active  nature, 
produce  and  determine  an  effect  in  itself,  how  absurd 
would  it  be  to  say,  that  the  effect  was  produced  with 
out  a  cause.  The  argument  on  this  point  is,  however, 
directed  to  the  proof  that  the  "  activity"  is  not  itself 
the  cause,  rather  than  that  the  active  agent,  or  the 
agent  which  exercises  this  activity,  cannot  be  ;  and  as 
this  latter  is  really  all  that  is  important  in  this  position 
of  the  inquiry,  as  to  the  freedom  of  that  active  agent  in 
willing,  we  might  pass  the  reasoning  on  the  other  point, 
but,  that  dwelling  a  little  further  upon  it  may  serve  to 
elucidate  the  subject  generally.  In  the  course  of  the 
argument,  Edwards  says :  "  2.  The  question  is  not  so 
much,  how  a  spirit  endowed  with  activity  comes  to  act, 
as  why  it  exerts  such  an  act,  and  not  another  ;  or  why 
it  acts  with  such  a  particular  determination?  If  ac 
tivity  of  nature  be  the  cause  why  a  spirit  (the  soul  of 
man,  for  instance)  acts,  and  does  not  lie  still ;  yet  that 
alone  is  not  the  cause  why  its  action  is  thus  and  thus 
limited,  directed  and  determined.  Active  nature  is  a 
general  thing ;  it  is  an  ability  or  tendency  of  nature  to 
action,  generally  taken  ;  which  may  be  a  cause  why  the 
soul  acts  as  occasion,  or  reason  is  given  ;  but  this  alone 
cannot  be  a  sufficient  cause  why  the  soul  exerts  such  a 
particular  act,  at  such  a  time,  rather  than  others.  In 
order  to  this,  there  must  be  something  besides  a  gen- 
eral  tendency  to  action  ;  there  must  also  be  &  particular 
tendency  to  that  individual  action.  If  it  should  be 
asked,  why  the  soul  of  man  uses  its  activity  in  such  a 
manner  as  it  does  ;  and  it  should  be  answered,  that  the 
soul  uses  its  activity  thug  rather  than  otherwise,  be 
cause  it  has  activity ;  would  such  an  answer  satisfy  a 
rational  man?  "Would  it  not  rather  be  looked  upon 


246  KEVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

as  a  very  impertinent  one  ?  "  (pp.  63,  64.)  It  seems  a 
sufficient  answer  to  this  question,  "why 'the  soul  of 
man  uses  its  activity  in  such  a  manner  as  it  does,"  that 
the  soul  is  intelligent ;  and  hence,  is  able  to  deter 
mine  which  action  will  suit  it  best ;  and,  in  virtue  of 
this  intelligence  and,  especially,  of  its  power  to  foresee, 
or  preconceive  the  future,  as  before  explained,  it  is  a 
creative  first  cause,  requiring  no  propulsion  from  the 
past,  or  no  prior  cause  for  its  action. 

Edwards  proceeds  with  his  argument  to  show  that 
"  activity  of  nature "  cannot  be  the  cause  why  the 
mind's  "  action  is  thus  and  thus  limited,  directed  and 
determined,"  as  follows :  "  3.  An  active  being  can  bring 
no  effects  to  pass  by  his  activity  but  what  are  conse 
quent  upon  his  acting  ;  he  produces  nothing  by  his 
activity,  any  other  way  than  by  the  exercise  of  his 
activity,  and  so  nothing  but  the  fruits  of  its  exercise ; 
he  brings  nothing  to  pass  by  a  dormant  activity.  But 
the  exercise  of  his  activity  is  action ;  and  so  his  action 
or  exercise  of  his  activity,  must  be  prior  to  the  effects 
of  his  activity.  If  an  active  being  produces  an  effect 
in  another  being,  about  which  his  activity  is  conversant, 
the  effect  being  the  fruit  of  his  activity,  his  activity 
must  be  first  exercised,  or  exerted,  and  the  effect  of  it 
must  follow.  So  it  must  be,  with  equal  reason,  if  the 
active  being  is  his  own  object  and  his  activity  con 
versant  about  himself,  to  produce  and  determine  some 
effect  in  himself ;  still  the  exercise  of  his  activity  must 
go  before  the  effect,  which  he  brings  to  pass  and  deter 
mines  by  it.  And  therefore  his  activity  cannot  be  the 
cause  of  the  determination  of  the  first  action,  or  exercise 
of  activity  itself,  whence  the  effects  of  activity  arise ; 
for  that  would  imply  a  contradiction ;  it  would  be  to 


NO   EVENT   WITHOUT   A   CAUSE.  247 

Say,  the  first  exercise  of  activity  is  before  the  first  exer 
cise  of  activity  and  is  the  cause  of  it "  (pp.  64,  65). 

So  far,  in  this  chapter,  I  have  virtually  conceded 
the  assertion  of  Edwards,  that  "  the  activity  of  the  soul 
may  enable  it  to  be  the  cause  of  effects ; "  and  hence 
inferred  that  it  may,  through  its  activity,  be  the  cause 
of  its  own  volitions.  I  have  done  this,  in  order  to  show 
that,  even  on  that  hypothesis,  the  argument  really 
favors  freedom  and  not  necessity.  It  seems  to  me, 
however,  more  correct  to  say  that  the  activity  of  the 
soul  is  itself  the  willing ;  or,  at  least,  that  willing  is 
itself  one  mode  of  its  activity.  Edwards's  argument, 
virtually,  both  admits  and  denies  this.  He  admits  the 
exercise  of  the  soul's  activity  generally,  and  argues  that 
this  cannot  produce  a  volition,  because  volition  is  an 
exercise  of  its  activity ;  and  therefore,  as  the  exercise 
of  its  activity  cannot  be  before  itself,  it  cannot  be  the 
cause  of  its  activity,  i.  e.  the  thing  does  exist,  but  it  is 
impossible  that  it  should  exist,  because  it  cannot  be 
before  itseli?.  He  is  arguing  about  the  exercise  of  ac 
tivity  generally  ;  and,  therefore,  this  objection  to  his 
mode  of  reasoning  cannot  be  met  by  saying  that,  when 
he  speaks  of  the  exercise  of  activity  generally,  he  does 
not  mean  that  exercise  of  activity,  which  is  a  volition, 
and  if  it  could  be  so  said,  the  argument,  that  the  exer 
cise  of  activity  cannot  be  before  itself,  would  then  have 
no  relation  to  the  volition,  which  is  not  that  exercise 
of  activity.  The  argument,  even  if  tenable,  would  ap 
ply  only  to  activity  generally,  or  in  the  abstract,  and 
not  to  activity,  which  has  a  particular  direction,  or 
which  is  directed  in  some  particular  way  by  intelli 
gence  or  other  power.  I  agree  with  him  as  to  the  im 
potence  of  activity  generally,  and  think  he  has  even 


248       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

gone  too  far  in  saying  that  "  the  activity  of  the  soul 
may  enable  it  to  be  the  cause  of  effects  "  (p.  63).  He 
argues,  "  That  the  soul,  though  an  active  substance, 
cannot  diversify  its  own  acts  but  by  first  acting  "  (p.  65), 
because  "  the  substance  of  the  soul  before  it  acts,  and 
its  active  nature  before  it  is  exerted  are  the  same  with 
out  variation,"  and  the  "  same  causal  power  without 
variation  "  cannot  "  produce  different  effects  at  different 
times  "  (p.  65).  But  the  same  argument  proves  that 
it  cannot  diversify  its  "  first  acting."  Activity  of  na 
ture  generally  would,  alone,  admit  of  no  variation  ;  un- 
combined'  with  knowledge,  or  with  intelligence,  if  it 
could  be  cause  at  all,  it  would  be  but  one  invariable, 
blind  cause  ;  and  hence,  could  produce  only  one  effect ; 
but  it  could  not  even  be  this.  Mere  active  nature  alone, 
or  the  knowledge  alone,  would  be  powerless ;  neither 
alone  could  be  cause,  any  more  than  weight  or  velocity 
alone  can  be  momentum.  A  mere  activity  generally 
must  act  equally  in  all  directions  ;  must  act  equally  in 
favor  of  and  against  any  movement  or  doing,  and  neu 
tralize  itself. 

Activity  generally  expresses,  not  a  power  in  itself, 
but  only  what  may  become  power,  a  something,  which 
may  be  used  by  whatever  can  apply  and  direct  it ;  and 
when  Edwards  asserts  that  "  active  nature  is  a  general 
thing ;  it  is  an  ability,  or  tendency  of  nature  to  action 
generally  taken,  which  may  be  a  cause  why  the  soul 
acts  as  occasion  or  reason  is  given  "  (p.  64),  he  virtually 
admits  all  that  is  essential  to  my  system  ;  i.  e.  that  the 
soul  has  an  ability  to  action,  which  it  may  use  when  it 
sees  a  reason,  and  that  its  effort,  or  act  of  will,  is  but 
an  exercise  of  this  general  ability  or  power  of  action, 
which  it  directs  and  determines  to  some  particular  act, 


NO   EVENT  WITHOUT  A   CAUSE.  249 

by  means  of  its  knowledge.  In  such  case,  however,  the 
active  nature  is  not  the  cause  of  the  soul's  acts,  but  is  only 
the  soul's  ability  to  act,  in  itself  as  passive  as  the  abili 
ty  to  smell.  By  means  of  the  combination  of  the  soul's 
ability  to  be  active  with  its  knowledge  as  a  means  of 
directing  that  activity,  it  becomes  itself  cause,  or  can 
produce  change,  whenever  the  "  occasion  is  given  • " 
that  is,  when  it  wants  to  produce  change,  and  knows 
some  means  of  doing  it  by  its  power  to  act.  If  the 
willing  is  not,  in  fact,  the  soul's  only  activity,  it  is  con 
ceivable  that  it  might  be,  and  in  that  case  we  might 
say  the  mind  is  active  in  willing  ;  or  that,  in  willing,  it 
is  active ;  the  willing  being  no  more  the  effect  of  its  ac 
tivity,  than  the  activity  is  of  its  willing,  nor  one  the 
cause  of  the  other,  any  more  than  the  other  is  the  cause 
of  it.  It  raises  the  same  question  as  that  to  which  we 
before  alluded,  as  raised  by  Edwards's  changing  the 
word  IN  to  BY  in  his  first  section  (Part  II.)  on  self- 
determination.  In  this  aspect,  the  mind  in  willing,  has 
a  striking  analogy  to  that  of  a  body  in  motion.  In  de 
fining  will,  I  have,  in  explanation,  said  that  it  is  the 
"  mode  in  which  intelligence  exerts  its  power ; "  and 
that  "  the  willing  is  the  condition  of  the  mind  in  effort ; 
and  is  the  only  effort  of  whick  we  are  conscious."  So 
of  a  moving  body,  motion  is  the  mode  in  which  it  ex 
erts  its  power  and  is  the  condition  of  a  body  in  chang 
ing  place.  Activity  is  the  mode  in  which  spirit,  or 
matter,  exerts  its  power.  In  the  case  of  intelligence 
this  is  manifested  in  willing  ;  and  in  that  of  matter  by 
moving,  or  changing  its  place ;  and  though  the  body 
may  move  in  moving,  it  cannot  move  l>y  moving  ;  for 
this  making  its  move  the  cause  of  its  moving  or  change 
of  place,  or  the  change  of  place  the  cause  of  its  moving, 


250       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

implies  that,  that  which  is  thus  deemed  the  cause  is 
prior  to  the  other ;  but,  as  before  intimated,  they  are 
really  the  same  thing ;  and  hence,  to  make  one  the 
cause  of  the  "other,  is  to  make  a  thing  the  cause  of  it 
self.  So,  also,  if  the  willing  by  the  mind  is  but  a  cer 
tain  activity,  that  activity  cannot  be  the  cause  of  the 
willing,  nor  the  willing  the  cause  of  the  activity ;  for 
this  activity  and  the  willing  are  one  and  the  same  thing, 
or  express  the  same  condition  of  the  mind.  The  logic 
by  which  Edwards,  in  such  cases,  makes  his  favorite  re- 
ductio  ad  absurdum,  in  an  infinite  series,  may  be  ap 
plied  to  any  case,  in  which  two  equivalent  terms,  ex 
pressing  action,  are  used  to  define  each  other ;  as,  for 
instance,  the  mind  is  in  a  certain  way  active  in  willing  ; 
or,  in  willing  is  in  a  certain  way  active ;  or  the  mind 
wills  in  choosing ',  or  chooses  in  willing  •  choosing  and 
willing  being  taken,  as  in  Edwards's  system,  as  equiva 
lents  ;  or  a  body  moves  in  changing  its  position,  or 
changes  its  position  in  moving.  Between  either  pair 
of  equivalents  substitute  BY  for  IN,  making  one  the 
cause  of  the  other ;  and  then,  being  really  the  same 
thing,  they  must  be  simultaneous,  and  thus  the  cause 
must  be  both  before  and  at  the  same  time ;  or,  each 
may  in  turn,  with  equ»l  reason,  be  alternately  made 
the  cause,  and  then  the  infinite  series,  admitting  of  no 
beginning  or  first  action  or  cause,  is  reached. 

When  Edwards  says,  "  the  question  is  not  so  much, 
How  a  spirit  endowed  with  activity  comes  to  act,  as 
why  it  exerts  such  an  act  and  not  another,  or  why  it 
acts  with  a  particular  determination  ; "  he  really  raises 
the  main  question  as  to  whether  the  mind  in  willing  a 
certain  act,  rather  than  any  other  of  the  many  conceiv 
able  acts,  is  constrained  to  determine  to  adopt  that  act 


NO  EVENT  WITHOUT  A  CAUSE.         251 

by  power  extrinsic  to  itself;  for,  if  the  determining  or 
controlling  power  is -not  extrinsic  to  itself,  it  determines 
and  controls  itself  in  the  act  of  will,  which,  as  we  have 
already  shown,  is  only  another  expression  for  its  free 
dom  in  willing.  He  subsequently  puts  the  question  in 
this  form :  "  "Why  the  soul  of  man  uses  its  activity  as  it 
does,"  admitting  that  it  is  the  soul,  which  uses  its  ac 
tivity,  but  still  leaving  open  the  question  as  to  whether, 
in  such  use,  its  act  of  volition  is  constrained  by  some  ex 
ternal  power,  or  is  its  own  action  induced  by  considera 
tions  or  causes  within  and  of  itself. 

If  it  is  asked  why  God  did  not  make  2  -f  2  =  4,  we 
can  say  that  He  may  not  have  had  any  want  to  do  it, 
and  hence,  would  .not  make  any  effort  to  that  end ;  and 
further,  that  even  with  such  want,  the  thing  would 
have  been  impossible.  The  impossibility  of  reconciling 
contradictions  is  a  condition  of  action,  even  to  Infinite 
Power.*  If  asked,  why  He  made  the  earth  to  revolve 
in  a  particular  orbit,  rather  than  in  any  other  of  the 
infinite  number  conceivable,  we  can  only  say,  that  He 
must  have  determined  this  from  considerations  purely 
His  own,  from  His  own  perception  or  knowledge  of  its 
fitness,  in  other  words,  that  it  was  self-determined. 
There  may  have  been,  conditions  required  by  His  want 
to  create  and  by  what  already  existed.  For  instance, 
if  matter  was  already  in  motion,  and  in  virtue  of  its 
motion,  was  an  extraneous  blind  power  or  force,  it 
would  furnish  certain  circumstances  to  be  dealt  with. 
It  is  conceivable  that  there  may  have  been  only  the 
one  particular  orbit,  which  would  fulfil  the  purposes 
of  the  Creator,  and  at  the  same  time  conform  to  the 
other  or  external  conditions.  The  perception  or  the 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXIX. 


252       KEVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

knowledge  of  this  fact,  must  be  the  immediate  reason 
for  the  selection  and  subsequent  effort ;  and  this  knowl 
edge  may  have  been  the  result  of  previous  effort,  or 
series  of  efforts,  springing  directly  out  of  the  want  and 
such  perceptions  or  knowledge  as  required  no  previous 
act  of  will.  All  such  knowledge,  combining  with  the 
knowledge  of  existing  external  and  internal  conditions, 
makes  the  sum  of  the  circumstances  which  the  mind  has 
to  consider  in  its  decision  as  to  its  action,  and  which  the 
mind  alone  can  decide  upon. 

If  there  is  no  application  of  knowledge  required, 
the  effort 'would  be  but  that  of  a  blind  cause,  which  is 
to  say,  there  could  be  no  effort.  To  suppose  that  no 
effort  is  required,  is  to  suppose  that  the  conditions  may 
themselves  produce  the  effect.  If  the  conditions  them 
selves  necessitate  one  certain  volition,  then,  as  the  abso 
lute  conditions  at  any  moment  are  the  same  to  all,  all 
must  have  the  same  volition  at  the  same  moment,  and 
if  a  volition  is  one  of  the  necessary  effects,  not  of  all  ex 
isting  conditions,  but  of  those  only  of  which  the  mind 
willing  is  cognizant,  then,  at  the  very  moment  in  which 
the  mind  recognizes  that  such  conditions  exist,  and  is 
thus  prepared  to  direct  or  to  select  its  act  in  conformity 
with  this  new  knowledge,  the  volition  and  any  neces 
sary  sequence  of  it  must  already  have  been ;  for,  by 
this  hypothesis,  the  mind's  action,  even  in  examining, 
is  not  essential  to  the  direction  of  the  act,  which  is  con 
trolled  by  the  pre-existing  and  extrinsic  conditions,  all 
the  effects  of  the  mere  existence  of  which  must  already 
have  been  brought  about.  If  the  volition  in  each 
being,  varies  with  the  particular  conditions  of  which  it 
is  cognizant,  there  must  be  something  which  knows 
what  conditions  are  recognized,  and  adapts  the  volition 


NO  EVENT  WITHOUT  A  CAUSE.  253 

to  them,  and  if  it  be  admitted  that  these  conditions  in 
clude  the  circumstance  that  the  mind  itself  perceives 
and  conforms  its  act  to  them,  then  the  mind,  by  that 
process,  does  determine  its  own  act,  and  of  course  is  free 
in  that  act.  The  examination  by  the  mind,  of  the  con 
ditions  under  which  it  is  about  to  act,  is  a  preliminary 
effort  to  obtain  the  knowledge  by  which  to  direct  its  final 
action  ;  and  its  first  act  of  examining  is  directed,  not  by 
the  conditions,  as  yet  unknown,  but  by  means  of  its 
knowledge,  intuitive  or  acquired,  that  such  examina 
tion  is  a  proper  preparation  for  further  action.  It  feels 
a  want  and  knows  that  the  best  mode  of  proceeding  to 
gratify  or  to  determine  whether  to  gratify  it  or  not,  is  to 
examine  /  and,  having  this  want  and  this  knowledge  of 
means,  it  directs  its  action  accordingly,  i.  e.  on  recog 
nizing  the  want,  it  begins  its  action  by  an  examination. 
If  it  already  has  a  knowledge  of  the  means  by  former 
experience,  or  by  intuition,  and  has  no  expectation  of 
finding  any  better  means,  it  needs  to  examine  only  so 
far  as  to  ascertain  the  existence  of  the  circumstances,  or 
conditions,  which  make  the  occasion  for  the  application 
of  such  knowledge.  If,  in  such  cases,  the  mind  acts 
directly  upon  its  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  mode,  or 
means,  its  action  is  instinctive ;  but  if  it  acts  from  memo 
ry  of  past  experience  its  action  is  habitual.  It  is  mani 
fest  that  the  pre-existing  and  extrinsic  conditions  do  not 
influence  the  volition,  except  as  they  may  arouse  want, 
or  contribute  to  the  knowledge  by  which  the  mind  is 
enabled  to  decide  what  it  will  do,  in  regard  to  that 
want. 

If,  to  the  question  proposed  by  Edwards,  "  why  the 
soul  of  man  uses  its  activity  as  it  does,"  it  should  be 
replied,  that  intelligence,  from  its  very  nature,  has  a 


254:  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

faculty  to  determine,  or  to  direct  its  activity,  it  would 
be  in  conformity  to  his  own  previous  statements,  that 
the  mind  has  a  faculty  by  which  it  wills,  and  that  an 
act  of  volition  is  a  determination  of  the  mind.  If,  there 
after,  he  asks  for  a  cause  of  the  determination  of  the  de 
termination,  or  volition,  it  is  like  asking  for  the  end  of 
the  end ;  and  to  make  a  case  analogous  to  that  by  which 
he  has  just  argued  that  the  nature  of  the  activity  of  the 
soul  cannot  be  the  cause  of  its  determination  let  it  be 
asked,  what  is  the  cause,  or  reason  that,  a  finite  right 
line  has  an  end ;  and  let  it  be  replied,  that  a  finite  line 
is  limited  in  its  nature  and  that,  on  this,  the  end  or 
"  thing  so  depends,  that  it  is  the  ground  and  reason, 
either  in  whole,  or  in  part,  why  it  is  rather  than  not, 
or  why  it  is  as  it  is  rather  than  otherwise,"  and  that 
this  "  truly  belongs  to  the  reason,  why  the  proposition 
which  affirms  that  event  (or  thing),  is  true ; "  and  there 
fore  this  is  the  cause  of  the  end.  To  this  reasoning  it 
might  be  objected  that,  the  line's  limited  nature  can 
not  be  the  cause  of  its  having  an  end,  because  the  cause 
must  be  exerted  before  the  effect ;  and  its  limited  nature 
can  have  no  effect,  as  cause,  till  it  is  exerted ;  but  the 
exercise,  or  application  of  its  limited  nature  is  a  limit, 
or  end  ;  and  this  exercise,  or  application  must  be  before 
the  limit,  or  end  ;  but  the  limited  nature  arises  from 
there  being  a  limit,  or  end ;  and  therefore,  it  must  be 
before  the  limit,  or  end:  and  hence,  cannot  be  the  cause 
of  the  end :  and  this  is  parallel  to  Edwards's  saying, 
li  But  the  exercise  of  his  activity,  is  action  ;  and  so,  his 
action,  or  exercise  of  his  activity  must  be  prior  to  the 
effects  of  his  activity,"  &c.  (p.  64),  and  to  the  reason 
ing,  which  follows  it.  In  the  same  way,  too,  it  may  be 
said  that,  the  existence  of  the  line  is  not  a  cause,  or 


NO   EVENT  WITHOUT  A   CAUSE.  255 

reason  why  the  ends  of  the  line  exist ;  because,  if  so, 
the  existence  of  the  line  must  be  before  the  existence 
of  its  ends,  which  again  is  absurd.  But  the  existence 
of  the  line  and  its  being  finite,  are  the  only  two  things 
or  conditions  upon  which  the  existence,  and  even  the 
manner  of  the  existence,  of  the  ends  depend.  If  it  now 
be  said  that  the  existence  of  the  line  and  its  limited 
nature  are  not  cause,  under  Edwards's  definition,  for  the 
reason  that  it  require!  that  cause  should  be  antecedent 
to  the  effect ;  then,  it  follows,  that  the  existence  of  the 
end  and  the  manner  of  the  end  may  be  determined  by 
what,  under  Edwards* s  definition,  is  not  a  cause ;  which 
renders  nugatory  all  his  argument  that  the  will  must 
be  determined  by  such  a  cause  ;  for  that,  he  makes  but 
one  inference  from  his  general  proposition,  that  every 
thing  which  begins  to  be,  must  have  such  a  cause.* 

But  it  cannot  be  urged  that,  under  Edwards's 
definitions,  anything  is  not  a  cause,  for  the  reason  that 
it  is  not  antecedent  to  the  effect ;  for  he  thus  defines 
what  he  means  by  being  antecedent :  "  To  say,  it  is 
caused,  influenced  and  determined  by  something,  and 
yet  not  determined  by  anything  antecedent,  either  in 
order  of  time  or  nature,  is  a  contradiction.  For  that  is 
.what  is  meant  by  a  thing's  being  prior  in  the  order  of 
nature,  that  it  is  some  way  the  cause  or  reason  of  the 
thing,  with  respect  to  which  it  is  said  to  be  prior  " 
(p.  52).  So  that,  a  thing  being  prior  to  another,  or  not, 
may  depend  on  the  fact  of  its  being  the  cause  of  that 
other,  or  not ;  and  hence.,  whenever  Edwards  argues,  as 
he  frequently  does,  that  one  thing  cannot  be  the  cause 
of  another,  because  it  is  not  prior  to  it,  he  begs  the 
question ;  for,  under  his  definition,  its  being  prior  or 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XL. 


256  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

not,  depends  on  whether  it  is  the  cause  or  not.  Its 
being  cause  depends  upon  its  being  antecedent ;  and  its 
being  antecedent  depends  upon  its  being  cause. 

I  have  thus  commented  upon  that  portion  of  his 
argument  which  relates  to  cause,  not  so  much  to  dis 
prove  its  particular  results,  as  to  show  generally,  that 
the  consequences,  deduced  from  such  a  definition  of 
cause,  are  not  reliable,  and  really  prove  nothing.  It 
must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  I  do*not  deny  the  positions 
of  Edwards  that  every  event,  which  begins  to  be,  must 
have  a  cause ;  or  the  necessary  dependence  of  that 
event  upon  its  cause ;  which  I  have  endeavored  to 
show,  in  their  proper  application,  prove  that  the  mind, 
itself  being  cause,  wills  freely.  The  prevailing  tend 
ency  of  most  men  to  apply  the  results  of  their  observa 
tion  of  the  connection  of  cause  and  effect  in  the  ma 
terial,  to  the  spiritual,  leads  them  to  seek  a  cause,  in 
the  past,  for  every  change,  and  hence,  to  overlook  the 
important  fact,  that  intelligence,  in  virtue  of  its  power 
to  anticipate  its  effects  in  the  future,  is  a  first  cause. 
We  may  follow  the  course  of  cause  backward  through 
a  train  of  consecutive  consequences  and  antecedents, 
till  it  comes  to  an  intelligent  will,  as  a  first  cause,  when 
it  doubles  on  its  track  and  the  reason  of  its  action  (the 
effect  it  preconceived)  is  found  in  the  line  over  which 
we  have  been  pursuing  it ;  thus  eluding  those,  who  still 
look  for  it  beyond  or  in  the  past. 

Every  act  of  will  is  the  beginning  of  a  series  of 
which  all  the  other  terms  are  in  the  future  ;  and  all  its 
connection  with  the  past  is  but  the  knowledge,  which 
the  mind  uses  in  directing  its  own  action,  as  an  intelli 
gent  cause  of  future  effects  ;  and  this  knowledge,  at  the 
time  of  the  willing,  is  in  the  mind's  view,  is  then  in  the 


NO    EVENT   WITHOUT    A   CAUSE.  257 

•present  and  not  in  the  past.  If  from  an  intelligent 
being  we  cut  off,  or  annihilate  all  the  past,  or  if  to  such 
being  there  never  had  been  any  past ;  if  it  came  into 
existence  with  want,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  mode 
of  gratifying  that  want  by  acts  of  will  or  effort  having 
reference  only  to  the  future,  it  could  still  determine  and 
•  direct  its  efforts  as  well  as  if  it  were  conscious  of  a  past 
in  which  it  had  obtained  some  or  all  of  this  knowledge. 

It  may  be  said,  that  a  being's  coming  into  existence 
with  such  want  and  knowledge,  is  an  event  which  must 
have  a  cause  in  the  past,  with  which  it  is  necessarily 
connected  and  which  determines  the  manner  and  mode 
of  its  existence ;  but  this  does  not  affect  the  question 
of  its  freedom.  If,  from  any  cause,  a  being  has  come 
into  existence  with  power  to  control  and  direct  its  own 
efforts,  such  being  is  free  in  such  efforts,  so  that  the 
question,  is  such  being  free,  is  not  affected  by  the  cause 
through  which  it  came  to  exist.  If  it  be  said  that  the 
want  and  knowledge,  which  are  necessary  conditions  of 
such  a  being,  control  the  act  of  will,  it  may  be  replied, 
that  neither  of  these,  nor  both  combined,  can  make 
effort  or  will,  unless  they  constitute  the  intelligent 
being  that  wills  ;  and,  in  that  case,  they  also  constitute 
a  free  agent. 

If  every  act  of  will  is  determined  by  the  whole  past, 
then  that  whole  past  is  the  cause  of  such  act  of  will ; 
and  being,  at  every  instant,  the  same  to  all,  if  the  same 
causes  necessarily  produce  the  same  effects,  every  mind 
would  will  at  the  same  instant  and  will  the  same  thing. 
If  the  act  of  will  in  each  is  determined  by  that  portion 
of  the  past  of  which  he  is  cognizant,  then  there  must  be 
something  to  adapt  the  act,  in  each  case,  to  this  varia 
tion  in  the  knowledge  of  the  past ;  and  this  can  only  be 


258       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

done  Vy  something  which  knows  what  this  portion  of  the 
past  is  to  which  the  act  of  will  is  to  be  adapted.  This 
the  "  past "  or  other  unintelligent  cause  cannot  do. 

We  shall  have  occasion  to  notice  this  supposed  de 
pendence  of  volition  on  a  cause  in  the  past,  in  examin 
ing  other  portions  of  Edwards's  argument,  and  espe 
cially  that  in  which  he  treats  of  motive  as  such  a 
cause. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OP  THE   WILL   DETERMINING  IN  THINGS  INDIFFERENT. 

EDWARDS  says,  "  A  great  argument  for  self-deter 
mining  power  is  the  supposed  experience  we  universally 
have  of  an  ability  to  determine  our  wills,  in  cases 
wherein  no  prevailing  motive  is  presented.  The  will, 
as  is  supposed,  has  its  choice  to  make  between  two,  or 
more  things,  that  are  perfectly  equal  in  the  view  of  the 
mind,  and  the  will  is  apparently  altogether  indifferent ; 
and  yet  we  find  no  difficulty  in  coming  to  a  choice  ;  the 
will  can  instantly  determine  itself  to  one,  by  a  sovereign 
power,  which  it  has  over  itself,  without  being  moved  by 
any  preponderating  inducement."  (Sec.  6,  p.  73.)  This 
mode  of  stating  the  case  seems  to  be  warranted  by  the 
extracts  which  he  makes  from  the  writings  of  some  of 
his  opponents,  but  I  think  it  is  not  well  stated.  Among 
other  objections,  it  supposes  the  will  to  choose  and,  also, 
virtually  assumes  that  the  mind  determines  its  act  of 
will  by  a  previous  act  of  will ;  and,  as  in  Edwards's 
system,  an  act  of  will  and  choice  are  the  same,  it  is  not 
difficult  under  it  to  elaborate  much  absurdity  from  such 
a  statement.  In  putting  their  argument  into  his  own 
terms,  he  makes  them  say,  that  the  WILL  is  apparently 


260  REVIEW    OF   ED  WARDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

altogether  indifferent,  and  yet,  WE  find  no  difficulty  in 
coming  to  a  choice.  Now,  if  WILL  and  WE  are  not  the 
same  thing,  if  he  does  not  embrace  our  whole  being  in 
will,  this  is  merely  saying  that  A  is  indifferent,  and  yet 
JB  finds  no  difficulty.  In  reply  to  one  whom  Edwards 
supposes  to  advocate  the  position  as  above  stated,  he 
says,  "  The  very  supposition  which  is  here  made, 
directly  contradicts  and  overthrows  itself.  For  the 
thing  supposed,  wherein  this  grand  argument  consists, 
is  that  among  several  things  the  will  actually  chooses 
one  before  another,  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  perfectly 
indifferent ;  which  is  the  very  same  thing  as  to  say,  the 
mind  has  a  preference  at  the  same  time  that  it  has  no 
preference."  (Sec.  6,  p.  74.)  And  again,  "  If  it  be  pos 
sible  for  the  understanding  to  act  in  indifference,  yet  to 
be  sure  the  will  never  does ;  because  the  will's  begin 
ning  to  act  is  the  very  same  thing  as  its  beginning  to 
choose  or  prefer.  And  if,  in  the  very  first  act  of  the 
will,  the  mind  prefers  something,  then  the  idea  of  that 
thing  preferred  does,  at  that  time,  preponderate  or  pre 
vail  in  the  mind  ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  the  idea 
of  it  has  a  prevailing  influence  on  the  will..  So  that 
this  wholly  destroys  the  thing  supposed,  viz.  :  that  the 
mind  can,  by  a  sovereign  power,  choose  one  of  two,  or 
more  things,  which  in  the  view  of  the  mind  are,  in 
every  respect,  perfectly  equal,  one  of  which  does  not  at 
all  preponderate,  nor  has  any  prevailing  influence  on 
the  mind  above  another."  (Sec.  6,  p.  76.) 

The  whole  force  of  this  objection  is  subsequently 
more  concisely  thus  stated :  "  To  suppose  the  will  to  act 
at  all  in  a  state  of  perfect  indifference,  either  to  deter 
mine  itself,  or  to  do  anything  else,  is  to  assert  that  the 
mind  chooses  without  choosing "  (sec.  6,  p.  77) ;  and 


OF  WILLING-   IN  THINGS   INDIFFERENT.  261 

he  might  have  added,  in  view  of  his  definition,  that 
this  is  to  assert  that  there  is  an  act  of  the  will,  when 
there  is  no  act  of  the  will.  His  opponents,  however, 
taking  his  own  statement,  really  make  no  such  asser 
tion  ;  and  it  is  obvious  that  these  objections  to  them, 
repeated  as  they  are  in  various  forms,  are  but  logical 
deductions  from  the  assumption  that  the  choosing  by 
the  mind  is  an  act  of  will,  or  that  an  act  of  will  and 
choice  are  identical ;  upon  which  I  have  already  com 
mented.  In  Edwards's  statement  of  the  views  of  his 
opponents,  as  quoted  at  the  commencement  of  this 
chapter,  it  is  not  clear  what  is  meant  by  the  phrase, 
"  self-determining  power."  If  it  means  only  self-deter 
mining  power  of  the  will,  or  that  the  mind  determines 
its  acts  of  will  by  other  acts  of  will,  it  is,  as  before 
stated,  wholly  irrelevant  to  my  position,  which  does  not 
rest  upon,  or  involve  that  dogma ;  but  if,  as  some  of 
the  subsequent  remarks  indicate,  it  also  means  a  power 
in  the  mind  to  control  its  acts  of  will,  it  is  proper  that 
we  should  notice  the  arguments  which  deny  this. 

In  view  of  these  several  objections  to  the  statement, 
as  made  by  Edwards,  I  think  the  argument  would  be 
more  fairly  stated  thus  :  A  great  argument  for  the  self- 
determining  power  of  the  mind  is  the  supposed  expe 
rience  we  universally  have  of  an  ability  to  will  in  cases 
where  the  mind  is  indifferent  as  to  the  several  objects 
of  choice,  and  has  no  preference  among  the  several 
movements  or  modes  by  any  one  of  which  it  perceives 
that  it  can  accomplish  some  one  of  the  several  objects 
among  which  it  is  indifferent  as  to  which  one.  This 
statement  excludes  all  preference  among  several  objects, 
some  one  of  which  it  is  desirable  to  obtain  or  to  accom 
plish  ;  also,  all  preference  as  to  several  modes  of  obtain- 


262  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

ing  or  accomplishing  that  object,  some  one  of  which 
must  be  adopted  in  order  to  accomplish  it.  It  will  be 
perceived  that  if  the  statement  went  farther  than  this, 
and  made  the  mind  also  indifferent  as  to  the  accom 
plishment  of  this  one  object,  that,  then,  the  mind  would 
have  no  inducement  in  the  premises  to  act,  no  want, 
and  in  such  case  there  would  be  no  act  of  will  to  reason 
about ;  and  if  it  went  farther  in  another  direction,  and 
made  the  mind  also  indifferent  as  to  its  willing  or  not 
willing,  thus  assuming  that  it  can  have  no  preference 
even  in  that  act,  it  would,  in  view  of  Edwards's  defini 
tion,  entirely  shut  out  the  admitted  act  of  will  in  the 
premises,  and  exclude  the  very  question,  which  he 
really  raises  in  this  connection,  viz. :  how  that  act  of 
will,  or  preference,  or  effort,  which  we  put  forth  to 
make  this  movement  or  action,  by  which  to  obtain  the 
object,  is  determined  when  there  are  several  such  ob 
jects  and  several  such  movements  all  equal  in  the 
mind's  view,  and  among  which  it  has  no  preference  and 
can  find  no  ground  for  any.  It  would  virtually  assert 
that  the  mind  did  not,  in  such  case,  will  at  all ;  and 
especially  would  it  do  this,  under  the  system  of  Ed 
wards,  which  makes  preference  and  will  the  same.  In 
the  system  I  have  advanced,  this  same  result  would  also 
be  reached  ;  for,  if  the  mind  is  indifferent  as  to  whether 
to  will  or  not,  it  has  no  want  to  will ;  or,  at  least,  none 
which  is  not  neutralized  by  a  conflicting  want,  and  it 
will  not  will.  The  statement  I  have  suggested  then, 
affirms  all  the  indifference  in  regard  to  an  act  of  will, 
which  it  can,  without  being  self-contradictory.  To  illus 
trate  the  statement,  suppose  a  man  wants  only  one  egg 
of  which  there  are  several  before  him,  each  in  his  view 
equally  good  and  equally  easy  to  be  obtained ;  no 


OF  WILLING   IN   THINGS   INDIFFEKENT.  263 

choice  either  in  the  eggs,  or  in  the  several  movements, 
or  actions  necessary  to  obtain  some  one  to  gratify  the 
want ;  and  yet  the  mind  does  will  one  of  the  many 
equal  movements  or  actions,  to  obtain  one  of  the  many 
eggs,  which  are  all  equal  in  its  view,  and  thus  gratifies 
its  want  to  have  some  one  of  them.  It  cannot  be  in 
tended  by  the  advocates  of  a  self-determining  power 
of  the  mi/rid  to  say,  that  the  mind  determines  to  will 
when  it  has  no  object  in  willing ;  when  it  has  no  de 
sire  to  produce  any  effect  and  is  wholly  indifferent  as 
to  exercising  its  will ;  and  yet,  the  last  objection  quoted 
from  Edwards,  seems  to  assume  that  some  of  them  take 
this  position.  If  he  merely  refutes  this  position,  as  thus 
assumed,  it  cannot  affect  the  system  I  have  stated  in 
Book  First,  for  such  an  indifference  wholly  excludes  the 
existence  of  a  want,  which,  in  that  system,  is  a  pre 
requisite  of  the  action  of  the  mind  in  willing ;  and,  of 
course,  in  it,  volition  is  precluded  when  there  is  no 
want..  And  if,  when  Edwards  argues  that  the  mind 
caniiot  will  in  a  state  of  indifference,  he  means  that  it 
cannot  will  when  there  is  not  only  no  choice  as  to  the 
several  objects,  or  the  several  actions  presented,  but, 
also,  no  choice  as  to  whether  it  acts  at  all  in  regard  £0 
any  one  of  the  equal  objects  or  actions,  he  merely  as 
serts  that  the  mind  cannot  will  when  it  has  no  want  for 
will,  or  cannot  exert  its  power  to  influence  the  future 
when  it  does  not  want  to  exert  it ;  and,  in  this,  the  ad 
vocates  of  freedom  certainly  need  not  differ  with  him. 
The  particular  cases  which  he  cites,  however,  do  permit 
the  existence  of  such  want,  and,  in  other  respects,  con 
form  to  the  supposed  indifference  as  I  have  stated  it. 
He  admits  too,  that  in  such  cases,  the  mind  does  ac 
tually  will ;  and  to  get  over  the  difficulty,  which,  under 


264:  REVIEW    OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

his  system,  arises  from  the  existence  of  a  volition,  when 
there  is  nothing  in  the  mind's  view,  no  motive,  to  in 
duce  the  particular  preference,  which,  by  his  theory,  is 
that  volition,  he  supposes  the  mind  itself  to  devise  a 
way  of  getting  itself  out  of  this  state  of  indifference,  or 
this  equilibrium,  as  to  the  objects  of  choice  ;  and  thus 
to  obtain  the  preference — the  volition — which  he  admits 
does  occur.  He  says :  "  Thus,  supposing  I  have  a 
chess  board  before  me  ;  and  because  I  am  required  by 
a  superior,  or  desired  by  a  friend,  to  make  some  experi 
ment  concerning  my  own  ability  and  liberty,  or  on 
some  other  consideration,  I  am  determined  to  touch 
some  one  of  the  spots  or  squares  on  the  board  with  my 
finger ;  not  being  limited  or  directed  in  the  first  pro 
posal,  or  my  own  first  purpose,  which  is  general  to  any 
one  in  particular ;  and  there  being  nothing  in.  the 
squares  in  themselves  considered,  that  recommends  any 
one  of  all  the  sixty-four  more  than  another  "  (pp.  77, 
78).  The  difficulty  here  presented  is,  that  the  mind  has 
determined  to  touch  some  one  of  the  sixty-four  squares, 
but  perceives  no  ground  of  choice,  and  hence,  cannot 
choose  between  them,  or  will  to  touch  any  one.  To  get 
over  this  difficulty  Edwards  goes  on  to  say,  "  In  this 
case,  my  mind  gives  itself  up  to  what  is  vulgarly  called 
accident,  by  determining  to  touch  that  square,  which 
happens  to  be  most  in  view,  which  my  eye  is  especially 
upon  at  that  moment,  or  which  happens  to  be  then 
most  in  my  mind,  or  which  I  shall  be  directed  to  by 
some  other  such  like  accident.  Here  are  several  steps 
of  the  mind's  proceeding,  though  all  may  be  done  as  it 
were  in  a  moment ;  the  first  step  is  its  general  deter 
mination,  that  it  will  touch  one  of  the  squares.  The 
next  step  is  another  general  determination  to  give  itself 


OF   WILLING   IN   THINGS   INDIFFEKENT.  265 

up  to  accident,  in  some  certain  way ;  as  to  touch  that 
which  shall  be  most  in  the  eye  or  mind,  at  that  time, 
or  to  some  other  such  like  accident.  The  third  and 
last  step  is  a  particular,  determination  to  touch  a  cer 
tain  individual  spot,  even  that  square,  which,  by  that 
sort  of  accident,  the  mind  has  pitched  upon,  has  actually 
offered  itself  beyond  others."  (Sec.  6,  p.  78.)  In  a 
note,  he  defines  "  what  is  vulgarly  called  accident,"  as 
"  something  that  comes  to  pass  in  the  course  of  things 
in  some  affair  that  men  are  concerned  in,  unforeseen  and 
not  owing  to  their  designs."  The  object  of  this  posi 
tion  seems  to  be,  to  show  that,  in  such  cases,  admitting 
that  the  mind  does  will,  yet  it  does  not  determine  its 
own  act  of  will,  or  preference  ;  but,  that  the  act  is  de 
termined  by  something  extraneous  to  the  mind  and 
which,  by  it,  is  "  unforeseen  and  not  owing  to  its  de 
sign,"  and,  if  it  could  be  established  that  the  will,  in 
such  cases,  is  determined  by  force  of  this  "  something," 
over  which  the  mind  has  no  control,  it  would  seem  to 
establish  necessity  at  least  in  such  cases.  The  argu 
ment,  however,  appears  to  be  unfortunate  in  many  re 
spects.  While  denying  that  the  mind  can  by  its  own 
action,  and  without  this  "  something,"  over  which  it 
has  no  control,  get  itself  out  of  this  state  of  indifference, 
it  begins  by  showing  how  it  can  do  so ;  for  when  it 
says,  "  in  this  case  the  mind  determines'  to  give  itself 
up  to  what  is  vulgarly  called  accident,"  it  is  the  mind 
that  does  it.  And  more  especially  is  it  intended  to 
deny,  that  the  mind  can  get  itself  out  of  this  dilemma 
by  an  act  of  volition.  But  in  Edwards's  system,  and 
in  any  system  to  be  of  any  avail,  this  determining  of 
the  mind  "  to  give  itself  up  to  what  is  vulgarly  called 
accident,"  must  either  be  itself  a  volition,  or  be  followed 
12 


266       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

by  a  volition  of  that  mind,  which  is  thus  made  to  get 
itself  out  of  a  state  of  indifference  by  means  most  espe 
cially  denied  to  it.  That  it  does  this  by  its  own  act  of 
will,  cannot,  of  course,  be  an  argument  against  the 
liberty  of  the  mind  in  willing.  I  have  before  remarked 
that  the  mind's  forming  a  plan,  in  which,  by  successive 
acts  of  will,  in  a  certain  order,  it  reaches  ends  which  it 
cannot  reach  by  a  direct  act  of  will,  is  one  of  the  ways  in 
which  it  manifests  its  creative  power ;  and  if,  in  cases 
of  indifference,  like  those  above  cited,  it  plans  to  do 
that  by  indirection  which  it  cannot  do  directly,  it  no 
more  militates  against  its  freedom,  than  does  its  succes 
sive  acts  in  obtaining,  chewing  and  swallowing  food  to 
satisfy  the  hunger  it  cannot  appease  by  a  direct  act  of 
will. 

But  it  does  not  apppear  to  be  at  all  certain,  that  the 
mind,  in  this  case,  is  under  any  necessity  to  adopt  this 
indirect  mode,  or  even  that  it  is  thereby  relieved  of  any 
of  the  supposed  difficulty  of  willing  directly.  Even  if 
the  mind  in  willing,  or  choosing  the  particular  square, 
is  determined  by  the  accident ;  still,  in  determining  to 
give  itself  up  to  accident,  it  is  not  determined  by  the 
accident ;  for  the  accident  itself  is  not  yet  determined, 
and  may  not  even  be  in  the  view  of  the  mind,  which 
Edwards  holds  to  be  essential  to  every  motive;  and 
hence,  if  the  mind  does  not  directly  determine  to  give 
itself  up  to  the  accident  and  thus  determine  its  own 
act,  instead  of  the  one  question,  as  to  how  the  mind 
determines  the  particular  square,  we  have  two  other 
questions,  firstly, .how  the  mind  determines  to  give 
itself  up  to  accident,  and,  secondly,  how  it  determines 
the  particular  accident  by  which  its  choice  of  the  square 
is  to  be  determined.  By  the  hypothesis,  the  only  object 


OF  WILLING  IN  THINGS   INDIFFEEENT.  267 

the  mind  can  have  in  giving  itself  np  to  the  accident  is 
to  determine  thereby  which  particular  square  it  will 
touch ;  and  there  must  be  many  of  these  accidents 
among  which  the  mind  can  have  no  possible  preference, 
as  one  will  answer  the  purpose  exactly  as  well  as 
another ;  and  the  question  arises,  how  the  mind  can 
prefer  or  choose  one  of  these  rather  than  another,  any 
more  than  it  can  prefer  or  choose  one  of  the  sixty-four 
squares  of  the  chess  board.  The  mind's  ability  to  make 
such  choice,  cannot  arise  from  the  nature  of  the  acci 
dent  ;  for,  if  we  conceive  of  two  accidents  exactly  oppo 
site  in  their  nature  in  every  respect,  still  one  will  answer 
the  purpose  just  as  well  as  the  other.  It  may  be  the 
passing  of  a  cloud  ;  the  shooting  of  a  star  ;  the  advent 
of  a  comet ;  or  the  NOT  happening  of  any  of  these 
events.  That  the  occurring  of  one  accident  may  be 
more  agreeable  than  another  can  be  no  reason  for  the 
selection,  for  such  selection  has  no  more  influence  to 
cause  it  to  occur,  than  to  cause  it  not  to  occur.  As  to 
the  place  of  its  occurrence,  it  is  only  essential  to  the 
purpose  intended,  that  it  should  fc  be  within  the  limits 
of  the  mind's  observation  ;  as  to  time,  it  is  conceivable 
that  the  mind  may  have  a  preference ;  it  may  prefer 
to  be  out  of  the  state  of  indifference  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible,  and  hence,  prefer  to  select  such  an  accident  as 
its  knowledge  indicates  may  soonest  happen ;  but  if 
the  application  of  this  knowledge,  by  the  mind,  is  not 
precluded  by  the  condition  that  this  accident  is  "  some 
thing  unforeseen  and  not  owing  to  its  design,"  still, 
even  with  such  conditions,  there  must  be  a  great  num 
ber  of  such  accidents,  the  chances  of  an  early  occur 
rence  of  which  are  in  the  mind's  view  just  equal ;  and 
hence  affording  no  ground  of  preference  among  them 


268  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

in  this  respect.  The  ground  of  preference  cannot  be 
in  the  effect  of  the  accident,  not  even  in  the  preconcep 
tion  of  the  effect,  for  the  only  effect  that  can  come  into 
notice  at  all,  is  the  determining  that,  in  regard  to  the 
determination  of  which  the  mind  is  indifferent ;  and 
this  consideration  of  itself  seems  to  preclude  all  ground 
of  preference  among  the  conceivable  accidents,  except 
that  in  regard  to  time,  as  just  mentioned ;  and,  any 
such  preference  must,  under  Edwards's  system,  be  an 
act  of  will ;  and  determination  of  a  subsequent  act  of 
will  by  it  would  be  the  will's  determining  itself,  which 
is  the  thing  he  denies.  But,  however  this  may  be,  it 
is  certain  that  the  mind  may  be  as  indifferent  as  to  the 
selection  of  a  particular  accident  from  among  a  number 
of  accidents,  any  one  of  which  will  answer  its  purpose 
equally  well,  as  it  can  be  in  regard  to  the  particular 
square  on  the  chess  board ;  and  hence,  will  be  as  un 
able  to  determine  the  particular  accident  to  be  selected 
for  use,  as  to  determine  the  particular  square  to  be 
touched,  and  we  have  a  recurrence  of  the  difficulty  in 
the  very  means  devised  to  surmount  it. 

In  the  particular  case  which  Edwards  selects,  he 
seems  to  avoid  some  of  these  difficulties.  He  says,  "  by 
determining  to  touch  that  square  which  happens  to  be 
most  in  view,  which  my  eye  is  especially  upon  at  that 
moment,"  &c.  &c.  This,  however,  is  not  such  an  acci 
dent  as  he  defines,  "  as  unforeseen,"  for  it  has  already 
occurred,  is  seen,  and  is  a  part  of  the  certain  knowledge 
of  the  mind  ;  and  if  he  should  adopt  such  events,  instead 
of  the  accidents  just  considered,  and  thus  avoid  some 
of  the  difficulties  which  arise  with  them,  he  would  im 
mediately  encounter  another  ;  for,  if  the  certain  knowl 
edge  of  the  mind  can  be  used,  in  place  of  the  accident, 


OF  WILLING  IN   THINGS   INDIFFEKENT.  269 

to  determine  the  case  of  indifference,  one  can  as  well 
say,  I  will  touch  a  certain  square  because  2  +  2—4,  as 
because  my  eye  happens  to  rest  upon  it ;  for,  if  the 
indifference  actually  existed  while  the  eye  was  thus  rest 
ing  upon  it,  that  fact,  of  itself,  could  not  prevent  the  in 
difference  any  more  than  the  fact  that  2  +  2=4,  could 
prevent  it ;  and  the  same  of  any  other  fact  known  at  the 
time  of  the  indifference.  If  I  know  that  by  accident  I  cut 
my  finger  yesterday,  it  will  no  more  help  me  out  of  a 
present  case  of  indifference,  than  any  other  known  fact. 
I  know  that  on  the  chess  board  there  is  a  square  in  one 
particular  corner,  and  I  can  just  as  well  determine  to 
touch  that  particular  square  without  the  knowledge  of 
any  previous  accident  as  with  it.  To  do  this,  one  of  the 
preparatory  steps  is  to  direct  the  eye  to  that  square, 
and,  when  the  indifference  is  only  as  to  what  square  is 
touched,  selecting  one  to  which  the  eye  is  already  di 
rected,  saves  one  preparatory  step  in  the  process  ;  but, 
if  this  is  the  consideration  which  prevails,  then  it  ceases 
to  be  a  case  of  indifference  ;  for  the  mind,  though  still 
indifferent  as  to  the  square  touched,  is  not  indifferent  as 
to  the  action  in  touching.  Among  the  circumstances 
already  existing,  and  in  that  examination  of  them,  which 
the  mind  habitually,  and  perhaps,  in  the  first  instance 
instinctively  makes,  it  then  perceives  a  reason  for  one  act 
rather  than  any  other,  and  it  is  not  such  a  case  of  indif 
ference  as  the  argument  supposes ;  it  does  not  differ  from 
cases  comprehending  a  large  proportion*of  those  practi 
cally  arising,  in  which  the  mind  by  a  preliminary  par 
ticular  effort  examines  before  it  decides,  or  even  inclines 
to  any  particular  final  action.  But,  be  this  as  it  may, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  an  event  of  which  the  exist 
ence  is  already  certain  is  not  such  an  accident  as  Ed- 


270  REVIEW   OF  EDWARDS   ON  THE   WILL. 

wards  contemplates  or  defines ;  and,  if  he  means  that 
the  movement  of  the  eye  is  to  be  subsequent  to  the  de 
termination  of  the  mind  to  give  itself  up  to  the  acci 
dent  of  its  movement,  then  he  has  selected  an  event 
which  is  dependent  on  that  mind's  will,  which  it  can 
foresee  and  must  design  ;  and  the  difficulty  is  solved  l>y 
the  mind's  own  self -determined  act  of  will.  It  is  making 
the  act  of  the  mind  in  willing  to  touch  a  particular 
square,  depend  upon  the  act  of  the  mind  in  willing  the 
movement  of  the  eye ;  and  such  a  solution  of  the  diffi 
culty  becomes  an  argument  for  the  self-direction  or  free 
dom  of  the  mind  in  willing. 

If  it  be  said  that  the  movement  of  the  eye,  though 
the  effect  of  design  and  volition,  is  still  so  far  accidental 
that  the  mind  can  direct  it  to  the  board  without  direct 
ing  it  to  any  particular  square,  the  same  may  also  be  said 
of  the  movement  of  the  finger.  Why  not,  then,  make 
the  movement  of  the  finger,  in  the  act  of  touching  it, 
the  means  of  determining?  I  apprehend  that  the 
movement  of  the  eye  has  been  selected  rather  than  that 
of  the  finger,  only  because  we  are  less  sensible  of  the 
uncertainty  of  a  muscular  effort  upon  the  hand,  than 
upon  the  eye.  The  movement  of  either  to  a  particular 
point,  requires  care ;  and  to  do  it  with  facility,  that 
skill  or  ready  apprehension  of  the  required  muscular 
movements  and  their  successive  order,  which  results 
from  practice,  inducing  habit.  It  must  be  learned. 
The  child  is  n&t  at  once  able  to  direct  the  movement 
of  its  hand  to  a  particular  spot ;  and  though  we  may 
learn  to  do  it  with  great  certainty  and  facility,  we  never 
do  it  without  some  care  and  attention.  We  learn  about 
what  amount  and  what  kind  of  muscular  movement  are 
required  to  move  the  hand  to  a  particular  point,  but 


OF   WILLING   IN   THINGS   INDIFFERENT.  271 

still,  we  are  generally  obliged  to  watch  the  result  and 
to  modify  the  movement  as  it  approaches  the  destined 
spot.  This  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  if  we  close  one 
eye,  so  that  we  cannot  so  readily  see  the  position  of  the 
finger  and  measure  the  relative  distances  of  it  and  the 
spot  to  be  touched,  we  must  move  it  much  more  slowly 
as  it  approaches  the  spot,  than  we  need  to  do  with  both 
eyes  open,  or  we  shall  be  very  liable  to  miss  it  alto 
gether.  The  movements  of  the  eye  are,  no  doubt,  sub 
ject  to  a  similar  uncertainty  and  require  similar  care 
properly  to  direct  them,  though  such  care  is  less  ob 
servable  than  in  the  case  of  the  finger. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  be  said  that  the  movement 
of  the  finger  is  too  certain  and,  therefore,  not  sufficiently 
accidental  to  answer  the  purpose  of  the  mind  in  getting 
itself  out  of  a  state  of  equilibrium,  it  may  withhold  this 
care ;  or  the  eyes  may  be  partially  or  wholly  closed, 
and  thus  any  required  degree  of  uncertainty  obtained 
in  the  movement  of  the  finger.  The  movement  of  the 
finger  thus,  under  certain  obtainable  circumstances, 
partakes  as  much  of  the  nature  of  an  accident  as  the 
movement  of  the  eye ;  and  hence,  Edwards  might  as 
well  have  made  the  movement  of  the  finger  and  its 
resting  on  a  particular  spot  the  reason  for  touching  that 
spot,  as  to  have  made  use  of  the  movement  of  the  eye 
for  that  purpose  ;  and  this  would  be  to  make  the  mind 
determine  the  act  of  touching  IN  the  act  of  touching ; 
or  to  determine  its  act  directly  instead  of  indirectly 
through,  or  BY  another  act ;  and  this,  so  far  as  the  act 
has  reference  to  touching  a  particular  square,  excludes 
Edwards's  idea  that  the  act  is  determined  by  that  "  mo 
tive,"  which  "  has  some  sort  or  degree  of  tendency  or 
advantage  to  excite  the  will  previous  to  the  effect." 


272       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

It  is  however  obvious  that  the  finger,  in  its  approach 
to,  or  in  its  first  contact  with  the  board,  may  come 
into  a  position,  which,  in  the  view  of  the  mind,  is  just 
equal  as  to  some  two,  or  some  four  squares,  and  that  the 
same  is  also  true  of  the  eye  ;  and  hence,  in  either  case, 
the  difficulty  of  indifference  may  again  occur ;  and 
Edwards  has  evidently  selected  that,  which,  so  far  as  it 
is  an  accident,  is  liable  to  the  difficulty  of  indifference 
in  its  application,  even  after  the  difficulty  of  indiffer 
ence  in  selecting  it  has  been  surmounted.  But,  sup 
posing  the  difficulty  of  indifference  in  selecting  the  acci 
dent  to  be  gotten  over,  and  that,  in  some  way,  the  mind 
"  has  pitched  upon  "  "  that  sort  of  accident "  by  which 
"  a  certain  individual  spot "  "  has  actually  offered  itself 
beyond  others  ; "  in  what  way  does  the  "  accident,"  a 
passing  cloud,  'for  instance,  determine  the  particular 
square  to  be  touched,  or  the  action  by  which  it  is  to  be 
touched  ?  In  what  way  can  it  be  cause  at  all,  and,  es 
pecially,  in  what  way  can  it  be  the  cause  of  the  deter 
mination  by  the  mind  to  touch  a  particular  square,  or 
of  its  act  of  will  to  touch,  or  of  its  choosing  or  prefer 
ring  a  particular  square  to  be  touched  ?  There  mani 
festly  may  be  nothing  in  the  event  or  accident  itself, 
tending  to  such  effects  or  results  any  more  than  there 
is  in  the  fact  that  2  +  2  =  4;  as  well  suppose  the 
square  itself  to  determine,  as  the  event  itself  to  deter 
mine.  There  is  evidently  no  less  difficulty  in  selecting 
one  particular  accident  from  among  myriads  of  acci 
dents,  all  equal  for  its  purpose,  than  in  selecting  one 
particular  square  frdm  the  sixty-four,  all  likewise  equal. 
There  is  then  no  more  difficulty  in  selecting  the  square, 
than  in  selecting  the  accident,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
difficulties  of  indifference,  before  suggested,  in  applying 


OF   WILLING   IN   THINGS   INDIFFERENT.  273 

the  accident  after  it  is  selected.  It  is  obvious  that  the 
whole  causal  efficacy  in  the  case  must  subsist,  not  in 
the  event,  or  accident,  but  in  some  rule  which  the  mind 
itself  makes  in  the  premises  ;  as,  for  instance,  that  if  the 
cloud  passes  easterly  a  certain  square  shall  be  touched  ; 
and  if  westerly,  then  another  certain  square.  Such  a 
rule  would  conform  to  Edwards' s  hypothesis  "  that 
it  will  touch  that  square,  wliich  happens  to  be  most 
in  view,"  &c.  But  how  does  the  mind  determine 
this  rule  as  to  the  square  to  be  touched  ?  It  has  no  less 
indifference  and  no  more  preference  as  to  which  of  the 
sixty-four  squares  each  division  of  the  rule  shall  be  ap 
plicable,  nor  to  which  two  of  the  sixty-four  the  whole 
rule  shall  apply,  than  it  has  as  to  which  one  shall  be 
touched.  Again,  supposing  this  difficulty  surmounted  ; 
if  the  mind  makes  a  mere  arbitrary  rule,  that,  if  the 
cloud  passes  easterly  it  will  touch  a  certain  square,  and, 
if  westerly,  another  certain  square,  being  still  indiffer 
ent  as  to  which  of  the  squares  is  touched,  it  can  cer 
tainly  just  as  well  make  the  rule  that,  if  it  passes  west 
erly,  the  same  and  not  another  certain  square  is  to  be 
touched,  thus  making  it  certain  that,  let  it  pass  which 
way  it  will,  one  particular  square  is  to  be  touched  ;  and 
this  being  the  same  as  determining,  in  any  event,  to  touch 
one  certain  square,  it  follows  that  the  event  and  the 
rule  of  its  application  may  be  dispensed  with  alto 
gether  ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  mind  can  as  well  direct 
ly  determine  the  particular  square  to  be  touched,  as 
it  can  the  particular  square  to  the  touching  of  which 
the  event  and  rule  shall  apply  when  it  is  indifferent  as 
to  which  it  will  touch  ;  and,  consequently,  as  to  which 
the  event  and  rule  shall  apply.  Suppose,  however,  we 
in  some  way  overcome  all  these  difficulties  of  making 
12* 


274  KEVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

and  applying  a  rule  to  a  certain  square  in  preference  to 
other  squares,  when,  by  the  hypothesis,  there  is  not  and 
cannot  be  any  ground  for  such  preference,  and  that  the 
rule  is  actually  made  and  applied,  the  whole  efficacy, 
the  whole  causative  power  or  influence  to  determine 
the  mind  in  willing  to  one  particular  square,  is  in  the 
mind's  making  the  rule  and  abiding  by  it ;  or,  which  is 
the  same  thing,  the  miid's  governing  itself  by  an  ar 
bitrary  rule  of  its  own  creation,  which  is  to  assert  for  it 
a  freedom  equal  to  that  of  Omnipotence.  It  is  a  free 
dom  apparently  even  beyond  that  which  I  have  asserted 
for  it,  in  governing  itself  by  the  knowledge,  intuitive  or 
acquired,  which  it  has  merely  found  and  has  not  itself 
created  ;  and  the  mind,  in  the  supposed  indirect  mode 
of  determining  in  cases  of  indifference,  would  exhibit 
not  only  more  creative  power  and  more  contrivance, 
but  give  stronger  expression  of  its  freedom  than  it 
could  do  in  directly  determining  its  acts  of  will  in  such 
cases.  Again,  the  rule,  even  after  it  has  been  created 
by  the  mind,  has  in  itself  no  causative  power.  It  is  the 
mind's  abiding  by  it  and  thus  executing  it,  that  gives 
it  all  its  efficacy  and  causality ;  and  hence,  the  hy 
pothesis  of  Edwards,  that  the  mind  gives  itself  up  to 
accident,  if  true,  only  proves  that  the  mind  adopts  a 
course  by  which  it  determines  its  own  volitions  under 
the  circumstances  which  are  supposed  to  present  the 
greatest  difficulties  to  its  so  doing  ;  and  by  a  means  as 
arbitrary  and  self-originated,  as  a  direct  determination 
of  the  act  of  willing  to  touch  the  particular  square 
would  be  ;  and  nothing  is  lost  to  the  argument  in  favor 
of  freedom,  or  gained  to  that  in  favor  of  necessity  by 
the  indirection. 

The  supposed  cases  of  indifference,  however,  do  seem 


OF  WILLING  IN  THINGS   INDIFFERENT.  275 

to  militate  against  the  theory  of  Edwards,  for  they  ad 
mit  an  act  of  will,  when  there  is  nothing  without  the 
mind,  and  no  previous  bias  or  inclination  in  it,  to  direct 
its  action.  All  that  Edwards  calls  motive  is,  there 
fore,  excluded  by  the  hypothesis ;  and  his  attempt  to 
bring  in  some  extraneous  event,  and  thus  get  a  con 
structive  motive,  entirely  failing,  the  whole  decision  has 
to  be  referred  directly  to  the  intelligence  that  wills,  act 
ing  without  that  preference  or  choice  in  regard  to  the 
objects  presented,  which  usually  is  a  portion  of  the 
knowledge  by  which  the  mind  determines  its  action. 
So  far  as  relates  to  a  particular  square  or  act,  neither 
the  motive  which  in  his  system  is  essential  to  the  will 
ing,  nor  the  preference  which,  in  it,  is  the  willing  itself, 
appears  to  have  any  existence,  or  to  be  possible  in  his 
supposed  cases  of  indifference.  The  argument  of  Ed 
wards  assumes  that  it  is  necessary  that  the  mind  should 
not  only  choose  to  touch,  but  that  it  should  also  choose 
among  the  objects  of  touch.  In  his  system,  to  will  is  to 
choose,  and  there  can  be  no  act  of  will  but  as  an  act  of 
choice.  If  this  choice  must  be  a  choice  among  the  ex 
trinsic  objects  of  effort,  in  the  sense  in  which  he  applies 
it  to  the  square  of  the  chess  board,  then  a  man  never 
could  thus  will,  when  there  was  only  one  such  object ; 
a  man  could  jiot  will  to  take  one  egg  unless  there  were 
at  least  two  eggs  to  choose  from,  for  with  less  than  two, 
there  could  be  no  choice  among  the  objects  of  choice. 

It  not  only  is  not  necessary  to  the  final  action  to  de 
liberate  and  decide,  or  to  choose  among  objects  which 
we  immediately  perceive  to  be  equal,  but  it  is  not  ne 
cessary  that  we  should  so  choose  among  those  in  which 
we  know  or  suppose  there  is  a  difference.  I  may,  with 
my  eyes  open,  thrust  my  hand  into  an  uncovered  basket 


276  REVIEW   OF  EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

of  apples  with  as  little  regard  to  selection  as  if  a  cover, 
or  my  eyelids  concealed  them  from  my  sight.  In  such 
cases,  and  in  cases  in  which  there  is  obviously  no  choice, 
I  take  as  if  there  were  but  one,  without  choice,  and  be 
stow  no  more  care  upon  the  act  than  is  necessary  to  di 
rect  my  hand  to  the  mass,  and  not  to  grasp  more  than 
one. 

In  reference  to  the  bearing  of  the  views,  elicited  in 
Book  First,  upon  such  cases  of  indifference,  I  would  ob 
serve  that,  in  the  case  we  have  been  considering,  the 
want  to  touch  one  and  only  one  of  the  squares,  is  the 
whole  ground  of  the  mind's  acting  at  all ;  that  delibera 
tion  is  not,  perhaps,  entirely  excluded  ;  but  that,  at  the 
moment  of  commencing  the  examination,  the  mind  per 
ceives  that  there  is  no  difference  in  the  objects  present 
ed  ;  and  hence,  dispenses  with  any  further  exercise  of 
its  power  of  comparing  and  judging ;  it  being,  as  before 
stated,  for  the  mind  to  decide,  by  the  exercise  of  its 
judgment,  how  long  it  will  examine  a  subject  before  de 
ciding  its  final  action  in  regard  to  it.  That  it  must  pos 
sess  the  power  to  thus  end  an  examination  and  to  judge 
of  how  far  it  will  examine,  is  evident  in  almost  every 
act  of  will,  and  even  in  cases  of  indifference,  which, 
comparison  as  to  the  objects  being  useless,  seem  more 
nearly  to  exclude  the  exercise  of  the  judgment  than 
any  other.  For  instance,  in  the  act  of  touching  a 
square  on  the  chess  board,  the  movements  of  the  hand 
by  which  this  may  be  accomplished  are  absolutely  in 
finite,  for  there  is  no  limit  to  the  straight,  curved  and 
zigzag  lines  by  which  the  hand  may  be  moved  to  the 
board ;  and  if  the  mind  must  examine  each  one  and 
compare  it  with  the  others  before  it  decides  in  which 
one  it  will  move  its  hand  to  the  board,  it  would  never 


OF  WILLING  IN  THINGS   INDIFFEEENT.  2Y7 

get  ready  to  will  to  move  at  all ;  and  as  it  does  will, 
it  must  have  the  power  to  will,  not  only  without  choos 
ing  among  all  the  objects  of  choice,  but  even  without 
that  examination  and  comparison  which  are  essential  to 
choosing  among  them  all.  The  fact  seems  to  be  that 
the  mind  having  perceived  some  mode  of  action,  which 
will  gratify  its  want,  determines  of  itself  by  the  pre 
liminary  exercise  of  its  judgment,  whether  to  adopt  that 
mode,  or  look  further  for  a  better  mode  before  adopt 
ing  it ;  and  that  it  often  acts  in  doubt  as  to  whether  it 
has  made  a  sufficient  examination.  How  much  time  may 
be  devoted  to  such  examination,  as  already  stated,  is  a 
matter  of  which  the  mind,  in  view  of  the  circumstances, 
must  judge.  A  man  who  has  not  long  fasted,  may 
seek  the  stalled  ox  and  pass  the  dinner  of  herbs,  which 
one  famishing  with  hunger  could  not  prudently  do. 
When  the  mind  comes  to  the  conclusion — judges  or 
knows — that  the  chances  of  advantage  by  further  ex 
amination  are  balanced  by  the  chances  of  disadvantage 
from  the  incident  delay,  it  will  cease  to  examine  and  will 
decide  and  act  with  such  knowledge  as  it  has  ;  but  more 
especially,  as  in  cases  of  indifference,  when  it  knows 
that  no  examination  will  reveal  any  advantage,  will  it 
cut  off  the  examination  and  immediately  determine  its 
action.  It  would  seem  to  be  natural,  or  in  conformity 
to  that  constitution  which  God  has  given  to  the  finite 
mind,  that  it  should  will  immediately  on  perceiving 
any  mode  of  gratifying  a  want  that  it  feels  ;  though  it 
is  quite  conceivable  that  the  knowledge  of  deliberation 
as  a  means  of  adapting  its  acts  to  circumstances,  or  as 
essential  to  safety,  may  be  intuitive.  An  animal  with 
only  one  want  and  with  no  other  knowledge  than  that 
of  one  means  of  gratifying  it,  would  immediately  will ; 


278       KEVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

but  in  a  being  with  conflicting  wants  and  a  knowledge 
of  various  modes  of  gratifying  them,  and  also  of  various 
consequences  of  the  gratification,  to  will  becomes  a  more 
complicated  matter.  Even  then,  as  before  suggested, 
want  may  become  so  imperative,  as  in  the  case  of  im 
minent  danger,  sudden  and  violent  excitement,  and  of 
appetites  habitually  unrestrained  and  nurtured  into 
passion,  that  it  shuts  out  all  secondary  considerations, 
all  the  results  of  its  acquired  knowledge  and  experience, 
all  deliberation  as  to  consequences ;  and  acts  as  if  it 
knew  but  the  one  want  and  the  one  mode  of  its  gratifi 
cation  ;  and  in  such  case,  is  reduced  to  a  condition  simi 
lar  to  that  of  an  animal  with  mere  intuitive  knowledge 
and  consequent  instinctive  action.  But  it  may  be  as 
serted  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  in  most  cases  the  human 
mind  avails  itself  of  a  variety  of  knowledge  in  the  mode 
of  gratifying  its  wants ;  and  especially  of  its  past  ex 
perience  as  to  the  subsequent  effect  of  different  modes, 
which  requires  examination  and  an  exercise  of  its  powers 
of  conceiving,  comparing  and  judging  ;  and  this  exami 
nation  is  an  element  which  the  mind  itself,  in  virtue  of 
its  intelligence,  its  knowledge,  intuitive  or  acquired,  in 
troduces  between  its  want  and  its  final  action.*  But 
in  a  case  in  which,  by  the  hypothesis,  there  can  be  no 
difference  in  the  proposed  modes  of  gratifying  the  want 
and  no  use  in  such  examination,  the  mind  in  recogniz 
ing  this  fact,  dispenses  with  the  examination  ;  and  thus 
instead  of  adding  a  new  process  to  aid  its  determina 
tion  in  such  cases,  as  Edwards  supposes,  it  merely 
omits,  wholly  or  partially,  one  to  which  it  is  accustomed 
to  resort  in  other  cases.  The  mind  wanting  to  touch 
one  of  the  squares  and  perceiving  that  there  can  be  no 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLI. 


OF   WILLING  IN   THINGS   INDIFFEKENT.  279 

preference  between  them,  omits  the  preliminary  effort 
to  judge  and  decide  as  to  such  preference,  and  decides 
arbitrarily  as  between  them,  or  as  to  some  known 
modes  by  which  the  finger  can  be  placed  on  some  one 
of  these  squares  without  having  found  any  ground  for 
preference,  for  the  reason  that  such  a  decision  is  neces 
sary  to  gratify  its  want. 

In  other  cases  the  mind  may  be  aware  that  there 
may  be  reasons  for  one  act  rather  than  another,  which 
it  cannot  take  time  to  ascertain,  because  of  the  necessity 
of  immediate  action ;  or  will  not,  because  in  its  judg 
ment,  the  time  required  can  be  more  advantageously 
"employed  ;  and  it  cuts  short  the  deliberation,  deciding 
with  such  knowledge  as  it  has.  In  the  case  of  indiffer 
ence  we  cut  short  this  deliberation  the  moment  we  per 
ceive  that  it  cannot  possibly  reveal  any  new  or  better 
ground  of  action,  and  determine  the  matter  in  a  direct 
act  of  will.  It  may  be  said,  that  at  the  moment  of 
coming  to  the  decision  not,  or  no  longer  to  deliberate, 
some  one  square  must  be  in  the  mind's  view,  or  which, 
as  Edwards  supposes,  "  the  eye  is  especially  upon  at  that 
moment."  But  suppose  the  attention  or  the  eye  is  at 
that  moment  directed  to  the  line  common  to  two,  or  to 
the  point  common  to  four  squares,  it  is  still  a  case  of 
indifference,  to  be  determined  by  the  direct  and  arbi 
trary  act  of  the  mind,  when  there  is  nothing  external 
to  it  to  control  or  direct,  or  even  influence  its  choice 
or  its  effort,  making  a  strong  case  of  the  exercise  of  its 
free  creative  power,  as  an  originating  first  cause  of 
change  in  the  future  ;  and  as  already  stated,  if  the  mind 
does  this,  as  asserted  by  Edwards,  by  means  of  an  ar 
bitrary  rule  of  its  own  making  or  adopting,  it  is  a  still 
stronger  manifestation  of  its  power  and  of  its  freedom. 


280  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

It  may  not  be  wholly  irrelevant  here  to  observe  that 
these  supposed  cases  of  selecting  in  things  indifferent 
are  somewhat  analogous  to  that  we  have  before  sug 
gested,  in  which  the  mind  wants  to  will  for  the  mere 
exercise  of  its  faculty  of  will,  without  reference  or 
preference  as  to  what  it  wills ;  and  as,  in  that  case, 
after  deciding  to  gratify  its  want,  there  is  neither  object, 
present  or  future,  nor  mode  of  obtaining  the  object  be 
tween  the  want  and  the  willing,  which  is  itself  the 
object,  there  is  no  room  for  deliberation  between,  and 
the  want  to  will  is  gratified  by  a  direct  act  of  will, 
without  the  preliminary  processes  of  comparing  and 
judging  to  select  among  the  objects  and  modes.  So,  in 
the  case  of  indifference  as  to  the  object  and  the  modes 
of  attaining  it,  the  mind  having  determined  to  attain 
one  of  the  objects,  by  one  of  the  modes,  as  soon  as  it 
perceives  that,  as  supposed,  there  is  really  nothing  to 
examine,  no  room  for  deliberation  between  its  want  to 
touch  and  its  will  to  touch,  nothing  but  this  act  of  will 
needed  between  its  want  and  the  effect,  which  is  to 
gratify  its  want ;  it  wills  directly  in  the  premises. 

It  may  throw  some  further  light  on  this  curious 
problem  to  remark  that  Ed  wards' s  hypothesis  of  an  ar 
bitrary  rule  in  these  cases  of  indifference  seems  to^de- 
rive  some  plausibility  from  an  apparent  analogy  to  the 
deciding  between  two  parties  having  equal  rights. 
For  instance,  two  persons  have  equal  claims  to  some 
thing  which  is  indivisible  and  must  be  possessed  wholly 
and  at  all  times  by  one  and  not  by  the  other,  any  divis 
ion  of  the  substance  of  the  thing,  or  of  the  time  of  its 
possession  destroying  its  value.  In  such  cases  the  cir 
cumstances  suggest  a  decision  by  what  Edwards  calls 
accident ;  something  which  neither  of  the  interested 


OF   WILLING   IN   THINGS   INDIFFEEENT.  281 

parties  can  foresee  or  control,  as  the  drawing  of  lots, 
throwing  of  dice,  &c. ;  but  here  the  elements  of  justice 
and  of  two  conflicting  wills  to  be  reconciled,  really 
make  all  the  necessity  for  resorting  to  an  accident 
which  is  beyond  their  prescience  and  control,  that  each 
may  have,  under  the  rule  adopted,  an  equal  chance. 
If  the  matter  were  referred  to  one  other  will,  to  an  im 
partial  judge,  the  action  of  whose  mind,  in  such  case 
no  human  intelligence  could  prognosticate,  his  decision, 
or  rather  his  action,  a  mere  arbitrary  act  of  his  will — 
there  being  by  the  hypothesis  no  possible  reason  why 
he  should  decide  one  way  rather  than  another, — would 
be  such  an  accident  as  Edwards  suggests,  and  do  just 
as  well  as  drawing  lots,  or  throwing  dice.  If  the  judge 
should  order  the  case  decided  by  lot,  he  would  still 
have  to  make  an  arbitrary  rule,  as  that  he  who  draws 
number  one  shall  have  the  thing ;  or  that  he  who 
draws  number  two,  shall  have  it.  It  is  evident  that 
he  could  just  as  well  decide  between  the  two  equal 
claimants,  as  between  the  two  equal  rules.  He  must 
resort  to  this  mode  then,  not  because  it  is  any  easier, 
but  for  some  other  reason,  as,  for  instance,  to  satisfy 
the  parties  or  himself,  that  the  decision  is  impartial,  or 
that  each  really  had  an  equal  chance  ;  or  to  avoid  the 
unpleasant  duty  of  depriving,  by  his  own  direct  act, 
one  or  the  other  of  his  equal  right.  The  analogy,  then, 
furnishes  no  ground  for  the  supposed  necessity  of  re 
sorting  to  an  "  accident "  to  determine  the  will  in 
cases  of  indifference,  where  there  is  no  question  of  per 
sonal  right  or  interest.  Still  another  reason  for  the 
supposed  difficulty,  or  inability  of  the  mind  to  deter 
mine  in  cases  of  "  indifference,"  as  urged  by  Edwards, 
is  its  apparent  analogy  to  cases  of  mere  matter,  kept  at 


282       EEVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

rest  by  external  forces  acting  equally  upon  it  in  all 
directions.  An  argument  from  such  analogy  really 
begs  the  question  ;  for  the  only  reason  why  mere  mat 
ter  is  thus  kept  at  rest  is  that  it  has  no  self-moving 
power  or  faculty  within  it,  no  means  of  moving  itself, 
which  is  the  very  thing  asserted  and  denied  of  intelli 
gence  or  mind,  in  this  controversy  as  to  its  freedom  in 
willing.  If  we  suppose  mere  matter  to  have  a  self-im 
pelling  force  imparted  to  it,  by  motion  or  otherwise, 
then,  if  acted  upon  equally  in  all  directions  by  other 
forces,  it  .moves  by  its  self-impelling  force,  precisely  as 
if  these  other  equal  and  conflicting  forces  were  annihi 
lated  ;  they  neutralize  each  other.  And  so,  if  the  mind 
has  a  self-determining  power  in  itself,  then,  if  equally 
acted  upon  in  all  directions  by  external  forces,  its  in 
ternal  force  would  be  unimpaired,  and  the  moment  it 
knows  that  the  various  objects  or  modes  of  its  action 
presented  to  it  are  all  exactly  equal,  it  decides  among 
them  as  readily  and  as  easily  as  if  there  were  only  one 
such  object  or  mode,  and  the  sole  question  was  as  to 
adopting  it,  or  not  acting  at  all.  We  before  reached 
this  same  result  which  seems  to  be  attested  by  observa 
tion,  indicating  the  existence  of  such  a  power.  A  man 
wanting  one  egg,  and  having  decided  to  gratify  the 
want,  may  particularly  examine  every  one  of  a  number 
before  him,  and  having  satisfied  himself  that,  so  far  as 
he  can  know,  all  are  equal,  he  takes  one  without  further 
hesitation.  Among  .the  infinite  modes  of  taking  it,  he 
decides  among  those  apparently .  equal,  in  the  same 
way.  So,  also,  a  man  wanting  to  touch* one  of  the 
squares  on  the  chess  board,  has  already,  in  virtue  of  the 
constitution  of  his  being,  his  faculty  of  effort,  his  want 
and  his  knowledge,  a  certain  inherent  force  which  is  not 


OF   WILLING  IN   THINGS   INDIFFEEENT.  283 

affected  by  the  presence  of  sixty-four  squares  in  all 
respects  equal ;  and  the  moment  he  perceives  their  cer 
tain  equality,  he  touches  one  of  them  as  readily  as  if 
there  were  only  one  to  touch,  having  first  decided  to 
touch  one  rather  than  not  to  touch.  If  there  were  only 
one,  the  same  supposed  difficulties  might  arise  as  to 
what  particular  spot  upon  that  one  to  touch ;  or  by 
which  of  the  infinite  lines  of  movement  to  approach  it. 
In  all  these  cases,  as  already  intimated,  it  is  not  neces 
sary  that  the  mind  should  even  ascertain  that  the  ob 
jects  and  modes  are.  all  equal ;  but  only,  that  the 
chances  of  advantage  by  its  finding  any  ground  of 
preference  or  otherwise,  are,  in  its  judgment,  not  suffi 
cient  to  warrant  the  application  of  further  time  and 
labor  to  the  investigation. 


CHAPTER  YIL 

RELATION   OF  INDIFFERENCE    TO  FREEDOM  IN  WILLING. 

IN  his  seventh  section  (Part  II),  Edwards  considers 
the  notion  of  "  Liberty  of  "Will  consisting  in  indiffer 
ence,"  using  the  term  indifference  as  directly  opposed 
to  preference.  He  argues  that  "  to  make  out  this 
scheme  of  liberty  the  indifference  must  be  perfect  and 
absolute.  *  *  *  Because,  if  the  will  be  already  in 
clined  before  it  exerts  its  own  sovereign  power  on  itself, 
then  its  inclination  is  not  wholly  owing  to  itself" 
(p.  85).  By  will  Edwards  asserts  he  means  the  soul 
willing  (p.  43).  He  also  makes  inclination,  choice  and 
preference  each  synonymous  with  act  of  will  (p.  2).  The 
statements  on  the  same  page  with  the  above  quotation 
also  clearly  show  that  Edwards  here  uses  the  terms 
inclination,  choice  and  preference  as  synonyms,  viz. : 
"  Surely  the  will  cannot  act  or  choose  contrary  to  a 
remaining  prevailing  inclination  of  the  will.  To  sup 
pose  otherwise,  would  be  the  same  thing  as  to  suppose 
that  the  will  is  inclined  contrary  to  its  present  prevail 
ing  inclination,  or  contrary  to  w^hat  it  is  inclined  to. 
That  which  the  will  chooses  and  prefers,  that,  all  things 
considered,  it  preponderates  and .  inclines  to.  It  is 


RELATION   OF  INDIFFERENCE  TO  FREEDOM.  285 

equally  impossible  for  the  will  to  choose  contrary  to  its 
own  remaining  and  present  preponderating  inclination, 
as  it  is  to  prefer  contrary  to  its  own  present  preference, 
or  choose  contrary  to  its  own  present  choice  "  (p.  85). 
By  substitution  of  these  equivalents,  the  argument  just 
quoted  will  stand  thus  :  Because,  if  the  soul  willing  he 
already  willing,  ~before  it  exerts  its  own  sovereign  power 
on  itself,  then  its  willing  is  not  wholly  owing  to  itself. 
It  is  obvious  that  such  statements  must  be  fruitless. 
But  further,  by  the  will  exerting  its  own  sovereign 
power  on  itself,  he  must  mean  the  soul  willing,  exerting, 
&G.  ;  and  the  argument  then  amounts  only  to  this : 
^Because  if  the  soul  willing  he  already  willing  before  it 
wills,  then  its  willing  is  not  wholly  owing  to  itself ' ;  that 
is,  if  the  soul  wills  when  it  is  not  willing,  or  does  not 
will,  then  its  willing  is  not  wholly  owing  to  itself.  The 
inference  which  Edwards  himself  draws  from  these 
positions  is  :  "  Therefore,  if  there  be  the  least  degree  of 
preponderation  of  the  will,  it  must  be  perfectly  abol 
ished,  before  the  will  be  at  liberty  to  determine  itself 
the  contrary  way  ; "  which,  though  somewhat  obscured 
by  introducing  new  terms,  as  preponderation  for  incli 
nation,  really,  under  his  definitions,  only  asserts  that, 
while  the  soul  is  in  any  degree  willing  one  way,  it  can 
not  be  willing  the  contrary  way.  Throughout  this  sec 
tion  there  is  much  confusion  and  sophistry  from  using 
the  term  inclination  as  identical  with  will,  and  yet  as 
something  which  goes  before  and  influences  the  will. 
The  same,  to  some  extent,  may  also  be  remarked  of  the 
terms  choice  and  preference.  This  confusion  is  further 
increased  by  the  frequent  use  of  the  term  will,  as  a 
synonym  for  mind  or  soul.  After  assuming  "  as  an 
axiom  of  undoubted  truth  that  every  free  act  is  done  in 


286  KEVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

a  state  of  freedom  and  not  only  after  such  a  state,"  he 
says,  "  ISTow  the  question  is,  whether  ever  the  soul  of 
man  puts  forth  an  act  of  will,  while  it  yet  remains  in  a 
state  of  liberty,  in  that  notion  of  a  state  of  liberty,  vis.  : 
as  implying  a  state  of  indifference,  or  whether  the  soul 
ever  exerts  an  act  of  choice ^or  preference,  while  at  that 
very  time  the  will  is  in  a  perfect  equilibrium,  not  in 
clining  one  way  more  than  another.  The  very  putting 
of  the  question  is  sufficient  to  show  the  absurdity  of  the 
affirmative  answer ;  for  how  ridiculous  would  it  be  for 
anybody  to  insist,  that  the  soul  chooses  one  thing  before 
another,  when,  at  the  very  same  instant,  it  is  perfectly 
indifferent  with  respect  to  each !  This  is  the  same 
thing  as  to  say  the  soul  prefers  one  thing  to  another  at 
the  very  same  time  that  it  has  no  preference.  Choice 
and  preference  can  no  more  be  in  a  state  of  indifference, 
than  motion  can  be  in.  a  state  of  rest,  or  than  the  pre- 
ponderation  of  the  scale  of  a  balance  can  be  in  a  state  of 
equilibrium.  Motion  may  be  the  next  moment  after 
rest ;  but  cannot  co-exist  with  it,  in  any,  even  the  least 
part  of  it.  So  choice  may  be  immediately  after  a  state 
of  indifference,  but  has  no  co-existence  with  it ;  even 
the  very  beginning  of  it  is  not  in  a  state  of  indifference. 
And  therefore,  if  this  be  liberty,  no  act  of  will  in  any 
degree,  is  ever  performed  in  a  state  of  liberty,  or  in  the 
time  of  liberty  "  (p.  88).  This  portion  of  the  argument 
now  stands  thus  :  The  soul  of  man  never  puts  forth  an 
act  of  will  while  it  is  in  a  state  of  indifference,  or  not 
choosing  or  preferring  ;  for  this  is  to  will  when  it  does 
not  will ;  and  as,  if  the  freedom  of  the  act  of  will  con 
sists  in  indifference,  the  act  of  will  must  be  in  the  time 
of  such  indifference,  there  can  be  no  such  free  act  of 
will.  If  any,  using  the  terms  in  the  sense  that  Ed- 


RELATION   OF   INDIFFERENCE   TO   FREEDOM.  287 

wards  uses  them,  have  asserted  such  freedom,  i.  <?.,  that 
the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing  consists  in  its  will 
ing  when  it  is  in  a  state  of  indifference,  or  not  willing 
at  all,  their  position  is  sufficiently  refuted.  Edwards 
also  considers  the  position  of  those  who,  "  to  evade  the 
reasoning  should  say  that,  the  thing  wherein  the  will 
exercises  its  liberty,  is  not  in  the  act  of  choice  or  pre- 
ponderation  itself,  but  in  determining  itself  to  a  certain 
choice  or  preference ;  that  the  act  of  the  will  wherein 
it  is  free  and  uses  its  own  sovereignty,  consists  in  its 
causing  or  determining  the  change,  or  transition  from 
a  state  of  indifference  to  a  certain  preference,  or  deter 
mining  to  give  a  certain  turn  to  the  balance,  which  has 
hitherto  been  even  "  (p.  90).  This  is  only  &  particular 
case  of  the  general  proposition  just  mentioned,  involv 
ing,  under  Edwards's  definition,  the  same  absurdity  of 
the  mind's  willing  the  "  change  or  transition,"  when, 
being  in  a  state  of  indifference,  it  is  not  willing  at  all ; 
and  so  far  this  argument  only  proves  that  the  mind 
cannot  both  will,  and  not  will,  at  the  same  time,  which 
no  one  will  dispute. 

Edwards  further  asserts  that  a  free  act  of  will  can 
not  "  directly  and  immediately  arise  out  of  a  state  of  in 
difference."  Now,  under  his  definitions,  every  act  of 
will,  choice  or  preference,  which  begins  to  be  must 
spring  directly  from  a  state  of  indifference ;  for,  as  he 
uses  the  terms,  the  mind  must  be  either  in  a  state  of 
indifference  or  of, preference,  and  never  can  be  in  both ; 
so  that,  the  instant  it  ceases  to  be  in  one  of  these  states, 
it  is  of  necessity  in  the  other ;  and  if  any  particular 
preference  was  not  preceded  by  a  state  of  indiffer 
ence  as  to  what  is  thus  preferred,  the  mind  must  always 
have  had  that  preference  and  been  engaged  from  all 


288       EEYIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

eternity  in  that  act  of  will,  which,  in  Edwards's  system, 
is  designated  by  this  particular  preference.  It  is  evi 
dent  that  no  such  act  of  will  is  possible  to  a  being, 
whose  existence  has  had  a  beginning  ;  and  as,  under  the 
assumed  conditions,  every  other  act  must  have  sprung 
directly  from  a  state  of  indifference*,  when  it  is  proved 
that  a  free  act  of  will  cannot  directly  and  immediately 
spring  out  of  a  state  of  indifference,  it  will  also  have 
been  proved,  under  these  definitions  and  assumptions, 
that  no  free  act  of  will  is  possible  to  a  being  whose 
past  existence  has  been  finite.  Edwards  thus  attempts 
this  proof :  "If  any  to  evade  these  things  should  own 
that  a  state  of  liberty  and  a  state  of  indifference  are  not 
the  same,  and  that  the  former  may  be  without  the  lat 
ter,  but  should  say  that  indifference  is  still  essential  to 
the  freedom  of  an  act  of  will,  in  some  sort,  namely,  as 
it  is  necessary  to  go  immediately  ~before  'it;  it  being  es 
sential  to  the  freedom  of  an  act  of  will  that  it  should 
directly  and  immediately  arise  out  of  a  state  of  indiffer 
ence  ;  still  this  will  not  help  the  cause  of  A.rminian 
liberty,  or  make  it  consistent  with  itself.  For  if  the  act 
springs  immediately  out  of  a  state  of  indifference,  then 
it  does  not  arise  from  antecedent  choice  or  preference. 
But  if  the  act  arises  directly  out  of  a  state  of  indiffer 
ence,  without  any  intervening  choice  to  choose  and  de 
termine  it,  then  the  act,  not  being  determined  by  choice, 
is  not  determined  by  the  will ;  the  mind  exercises  no 
free  choice  in  the  affair,  and  free  choice  and  free  will 
have  no  hand  in  the  determination  of  the  act,  which  is 
entirely  inconsistent  with  their  notion  of  the  freedom 
of  volition  "  (pp.  91,  92).  It  will  be  observed  that  this 
argument  assumes  that  choice  is  a  necessary  element 
of  free  will,  and  is  that  element  which  distinguishes  it 


EELATION   OF  INDIFFEEENCE   TO   FREEDOM.  289 

from  uniiQQ  will,  which,  if  asserted  generally  and  taken 
in  connection  with  the  assertion  of  Edwards  that,  "  to 
will  and  to  choose  are  the  same  thing  "  (p.  91),  is  anal 
ogous  to  saying  that  water  is  a  necessary  element  of 
hot  water,  and  is  that  element  which  distinguishes  it 
from  cold  water.  That  the  free  act  of  will  must  be  im 
mediately  preceded  and  determined  by  choice  is  here 
assumed ;  and  this,  if  choice  is  also  deemed  an  act  of 
will,  involves  the  notion,  attributed  by  Edwards  to  the 
Arminians,  that  a  free  act  of  will  must  be  determined 
by  a  preceding  act  of  will ;  and  hence,  Edwards's  in 
ference  that  the  position,  that  a  free  act  of  will  is  im 
mediately  preceded  by  indifference  and  not  by  choice 
or  act  of  will,  is  inconsistent  with  their  notion  of  liberty. 
It  is  obvious  that  this  reasoning  is  directed  only  against 
those  who  assert  that  a  free  act  of  will  must  co-exist 
with,  or  "  immediately  arise  out  of  a  state  of  indiffer 
ence  ;  "  and  that  it  avails  even  as  against  those,  only  on 
the  assumption  that  indifference  is  that  state  of  the 
mind  in  which  it  has  no  choice  or  preference ;  that 
choice  is  a  necessary  antecedent  and  the  immediate  an 
tecedent  of  free  will ;  and  that  to  will  is  the  same  thing 
as  to  prefer  or  choose. 

I  infer,  from  Edwards's  statements,  that  the  Ar 
minians  hold  that  the  choice  of  the  mind,  is  a  pre 
requisite  of  a  free  act  of  will ;  and  yet  that  choice  and 
act  of  will  are  the  same ;  and  thus,  in  asserting  the 
mind's  freedom  in  willing,  were  forced  to  the  position 
that  the  freedom  was  exercised  in  a  state  preceding  that 
of  choice ;  a  state,  which  was  not  that  of  choice ;  and 
consequently,  in  his  and  their  use  of  terms,  was  a  state 
of  indifference.  As  I  do  not  assert  what  this  argument 
opposes,  and  deny  some  of  the  propositions  which  are 
13 


REVIEW    OF    EDWARDS    ON   THE    WILL. 

essential  to  its  conclusions,  it  has  little  application  to 
my  positions.  ^  , 

I  see  no  objection  to  Edwards's  use  of  the  term  in 
difference,  as  the  antithesis  of  choice  or  preference,  but 
I  hold  that  every  act  of  will  is  immediately  preceded 
by  a  perception,  by  the  knowledge  that  such  act  will, 
or  may  produce  the  effect  wanted ;  and  this  perception 
or  knowledge  may  be  a  preference  or  choice,  as  among 
various  modes  of  action,  or  as  between  action  and  non- 
action  ;  that,  except  in  those  cases  of  hasty  action  in 
which  at  once  perceiving  that  a  certain  action  will  pro 
duce  a  certain  desirable  result,  we  adopt  it  without 
stopping  to  compare  it  with  other  possible  modes  of 
action,  or  with  non-action,  this  perception  is  a  choice 
or  preference,  and  hence,  for  the  purposes  of  this  argu 
ment,  Edwards's  assumption  that  a  free  act  of  will  is 
an  act  of  will  which  is  preceded  by  the  mind's  choice 
or  preference,  and  is  in  conformity  to  such  choice,  may 
also  be  admitted.  But,  then,  such  a  perception,  choice 
or  preference,  is  not  an  act  of  will,  but  knowledge ;  and 
this  knowledge  or  choice,  is  not  a  distinct  power  or 
entity,  which  itself  determines  the  act  of  will,  but  is 
merely  that  acquisition  by  which  the  mind  determines 
its  act,  in  adapting  it  to  the  desired  end  ;  and  the  free 
dom  of  the  mind  in  such  case  consists  as  before  argued, 
in  its  determining  its  own  acts  by  means  of  its  own 
knowledge.  This  addition  to  our  knowledge  is  always 
an  immediate  perception,  but  may  have  required  pre 
liminary  acts  of  will  to  make  it  obvious  to  the  mind's 
knowing  sense.  It  may  be  the  result  of  an  effort,  in  or 
by  which  the  mind  compares  various  things  or  modes, 
till  it  judges  or  decides  among  them,  that  is,  perceives 
or  knows  which  is  best ;  but  the  effort  and  the  decision 


RELATION   OF   INDIFFERENCE   TO   FREEDOM.  291 

or  judgment  which  is  its  result,  are  two  distinct  and 
very  different  things  ;  the*  effort  is  an  act  of  will  and, 
in  this  case,  the  result  is  a  choice. 

The  form  in  which  an  admission  that  choice  is  a 
necessary  antecedent  of  free  will,  could  be  most  plausi 
bly  used  against  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing, 
seems  to  me  to  be  this :  Even  supposing  the  mind's 
choice  to  be  something  distinct  from  its  act  of  will,  still 
the  choice  in  that  case,  is  the  result  of  a  comparison, 
which  was  itself  an  act  of  will,  and,  if  a  free  act,  must 
also  have  been  preceded  by  a  choice,  which,  in  turn, 
must  be  the  result  of  a  previous  act  of  will,  and  so  on 
ad  infinitum,  leaving  no  possibility  of  a  first  free  act. 
It  will  be  observed  that  this,  argument  is  the  same  as 
that  of  Edwards,  except  that,  instead  of  making  choice 
itself  an  act  of  will,  it  makes  it  the  result  of  an  act  of 
will  and  avails  only  on  the  assumption  that  every  choice 
requires  an  antecedent  act  of  will.  This  assumption  I 
deem  unfounded.  "When  I,  at  the  same  time,  see  an  ox 
and  a  mouse,  I  know  at  once  without  any  effort  or  act 
of  will,  that  the  ox  is  larger  than  the  mouse.  It  is  a 
fact  obvious  to  simple  perception  requiring  no  prelimi 
nary  effort  to  arrange  either  objects  or  ideas  to  make 
it  apparent.  In  the  same  way  I  may  at  once  perceive 
that  one  thing  is  better  than  others ;  and  when  I  thus 
perceive  that  one  thing  is  better  adapted  to  my  want 
than  others,  and  that  it  is  better  to  have,  than  not  to  have 
it,  it  is  a  choice  of  that  thing,  which  is  thus  recognized 
by  the  mind's  sense  of  knowing,  without  any  prelimi 
nary  effort ;  and  such  choice,  even  under  our  admis 
sion,  may  be  the  basis  of  free  action. 

But  it  does  not  appear  certain  that  choice,  either  as 
the  result  of  an  act  of  the  will  in  comparing,  or  even  as 


292  REVIEW   OF    EDWAEDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

a  simple  perception  of  the  mind,  is  a  necessary  ante 
cedent  to  a  free  act  of  will."  The  mind  may  perceive 
some  good  result  of  an  effort,  and  make  that  effort  with 
out  comparing  it  with  other  efforts,  as  we  may  decide 
to  take  an  apple  immediately  before  us,  without  com 
paring  it  with  others  in  the  same  basket.  In  walking, 
for  instance,  a  man,  having  by  previous  action  decided, 
knows  that  he  wants  to  move  in  a  certain  direction,  and 
that  the  mode  of  doing  it  is  at  each  point  of  his  prog 
ress  to  take  another  step  in  the  same  direction.  The 
facility  with  which  a  man  in  walking  thinks  of  other 
subjects,  and  the  little  interruption  of  his  thoughts, 
seem  to  indicate  that  he  does  not,  at  each  act  of  will, 
or  effort  to  take  a  step,  without  which  the  step  would 
not  be  taken,  compare  the  act  of  stepping  in  a  certain 
direction  with  that  of  stepping  in  other  directions,  or 
with  the  swinging  of  the  arms,  or  any  other  conceivable 
act,  or  even  with  not  "acting  at  all ;  but,  as  before  sug 
gested,  acts  immediately  upon  the  perception,  the 
knowledge,  that  such  act  tends  to  a  desirable  result. 
The  essential  element  or  fundamental  condition  of  free 
action  is  not  that  it  is  chosen,  but  that  it  is  self-direct 
ed  ;  and  it  would  be  proper  to  bear  this  in  mind  even 
if  it  should  on  investigation  appear  that  choice  of  the 
action  is  still  an'  essential  element  of  this  self-direction, 
because  choice  has  a  more  general  application,  signify 
ing  selection  among  other  things,  as  well  as  acts  of  .will ; 
and  hence,  even  if  choice  is  always  the  immediate  ante 
cedent  of  free  action,  a  free  action  is  not  always  the 
immediate  consequence  of  choice ;  and  this  even  though 
the  mind  in  choosing  always  has  a  view  to  future  ac 
tion,  either  proximate  or  remote. 

The  latter  portion  of  his  seventh  section  (Part  II.) 


mDIFFEEENCE   TO   FKEEDOM   IN   WILLING.  293 

Edwards  devotes  to  those  who  "  should  suppose  that 
these  difficulties  may  be  avoided  by  saying  that  the 
liberty  of  the  mind  consists  in  a  power  to  suspend  the 
act  of  the  will,  and  so  to  keep  it  in  a  state  of  indiffer 
ence  until  there  has  been  opportunity  for  consideration ; 
and  so  shall  say  *  *  *  that  liberty  consists  in  a.  power 
of  the  mind  to  forbear  or  suspend  the  act  of  volition 
and  keep  the  mind  in  a  state  of  indifference  for  the 
present,  until  there  has  been  opportunity  for  proper  de 
liberation."  (P.  92.)  Edwards  assumes  that  those  who 
say  this,  mean  to  assert  that  this  power  to  suspend  its 
volition  is  the  only  liberty  of  the  mind  in  willing  ;  and 
argues  as  if  they  had  said,  the  liberty  of  the  mind  con 
sists  in  its  actually  suspending  the  act  of  the  will.  He 
further  assumes  that  "  this  suspending  volition,  if  there 
~be properly  any  such  thing ,  is  itself  an  act  of  volition," 
and,  on  these  'assumptions,  his  argument  runs  thus  :  the 
only  free  volition  is  the  volition  to  suspend  an  act  of 
will,  and  the  freedom  of  this  volition,  in  turn,  consists 
in  a  volition  to  suspend  it,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum,  ad 
mitting  of  no  first  free  act  of  will.  This  reasoning, 
availing  only  against  those  who  assert  that  the  only 
liberty  of  the  mind  in  willing  consists  in  its  suspending 
its  act  of  will,  and  then  being  also  founded  on  assump 
tions  which  do  not  enter  into  my  system,  and  which  I 
deem  erroneous,  does  not  really  affect  the  argument 
I  have  presented  in  favor  of  freedom.  Edwards  in  the 
above  quotation  seems  to  question  "  if  there  be  prop 
erly  any  such  thing"  as  "  suspending  volition,"  and,  if 
there  is,  asserts  that  the  suspending  "  is  itself  an  act  of 
volition."  The  question,  can  the  mind  suspend  voli 
tion,  really  involves  that  of  its  ability  to  determine  as  to 
whether  to  act,  or  not  to  act.  For,  if  the  mind  cannot 


294       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

even  suspend  a  volition,  it  must,  of  course  and  of  neces 
sity,  make  or  have  the  volition  and  have  it  immediately. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  it  has  power  to  suspend  volition,  it 
must  be  for  an  indefinite  time,  otherwise  there  is  a  time 
when  it  has  not  power  to  suspend,  and  power  to  sus 
pend  for  an  indefinite  time  is  power  not  to  put  forth 
nor  have  the  volition  at  all.  On  the  first  hypothesis, 
when  there  was  only  one  cause,  and  that  cause  then  able 
to  produce  all  the  effects  it  has  since  produced,  as,  if 
omnipotent,  it  must  have  been — and  if  suspending 
volition  involves  such  contradictions  as  Edwards  sup 
poses,  even  omnipotence  could  not  suspend  its  voli 
tion,  but  must  immediately  have  actually  created  and 
done  everything  possible.  And,  if  a  part  of  this  doing 
was  the  creating  of  other  causes  acting  by  will,  they, 
too,  at  the  same  instant,  must  have  exhausted  all  their 
causative  power,  making  all  cause  end  the  instant  it 
came  into  existence,  or  the  moment  the  first  cause  of 
all  acted.  As  the  influence  of  matter,  if  made  cause  by 
being  in  motion,  may  be  retained,  or  continued  in  time, 
from  the  circumstance  that  to  move  from  one  point  of 
space  to  another  requires  time,  so  the  influence  of  spirit, 
as  cause  in  virtue  of  its  intelligence,  is  continued  in 
time  from  the  circumstance  that,  by  its  intelligence,  it 
may  think,  examine,  compare,  and  judge,  or  decide  as 
to  the  proper  time  of  ending  the  preliminary  examina 
tion,  and  proceed  to  the  final  action.*  The  assertion 
that  "  suspending  volition  is  itself  an  act  of  volition,"  I 
deem  unfounded  ;  but  Edwards  thus  attempts  to"  prove 
it :  "If  the  mind  determines  to  suspend  its  act,  it  de 
termines  it  voluntarily ;  it  chooses,  on  some  considera 
tion,  to  suspend  it.  And  this  choice  or  determination 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLII. 


INDIFFEEENCE  TO   FREEDOM   IN   WILLING.  295 

is  an  act  of  the  will ;  and  indeed  it  is  supposed  to  be  so 
in  the  very  hypothesis  ;  for  it  is  supposed  that  the  lib 
erty  of  the  will  consists  in  its  power  to  do  this,  and  that 
its  doing  it  is  the  very  thing  wherein  the  will  exercises 
its  liberty.  But  how  can  the  will  exercise  liberty  in  it, 
if  it  be  not  an  act  of  the  will  ?  The  liberty  of  the  will 
is  not  exercised  in  anything  but  what  the  will  does." 
(Pp.  92,.  93.)  There  is  a  covert  sophistry  in  this, 
growing  out  of  using  the  term  will  as  synonymous 
with  mind.  The  latter  portion  shouldread  thus  :  "  for 
it  is  supposed  that  the  liberty  of  the  mind  consists  in 
its  power  to  do  this,  and  that  its  doing  it  is  the  very 
thing  wherein  the  mind  exercises  its  liberty.  But  how 
can  the  mind  exercise  liberty  in  willing,  if  it  be  not  in 
an^act  of  will  ?  The  liberty  of  the  mind  is  not  exercised 
in  anything  but  what  the  mind  does ; "  which  would 
prove  nothing  against  the  mind's  freedom  in  willing. 
In  regard  to  this  last-quoted  assertion,  as  thus  altered, 
we  may  observe  that  Edwards's  own  remarks  in  defining 
will,  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the  mind's  liberty  may 
be  as  much  exercised  in  that  which  it  refuses,  as  in  that 
which  it  chooses,  and, -of  course,  as  much  in  that  which 
it  refuses  to  do,  as  in  that  which  it  chooses  to  do ;  in 
what  it  does  not  will  as  well  as  in  what  it  does  will. 

It  will  be  observed  that  Edwards's  proof  of  the  as 
sertion  that  suspending  volition  is  itself  an  act  of  voli 
tion  rests  directly  and  wholly  on  the  assumption  that 
the  mind's  choice  is  the  same  as  its  act  of  will ;  and  if  I 
have  succeeded  in  showing  that  this  is  an  error,  then, 
not  only  the  above-mentioned  assertion,  but  this  whole 
argument  of  Edwards  against  the  freedom  of  the  mind 
in  suspending  volition,  is  shown  to  be  fallacious.  I 
would,  however,  further  remark  upon  it  that,  if  to  sus- 


296  REVIEW   OF   EDWABDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

pend  the  mind's  act  of  will  requires  an  act  of  will  of 
any  kind,  free  or  unfree,  then  once  the  mind  is  in  ac 
tion  it  never  can  suspend  action,  or  cease  to  act ;  for 
every  act  must  continue  till  there  is  another  act  to  sus 
pend  it.  But  even  if,  against  all  experience,  this  be  ad 
mitted,  it  still  would  not  prove  that  the  mind  is  not 
free  in  its  every  act  of  will ;  for  it  is  conceivable  that 
the  mind  may  be  under  a  continual  necessity  to  act,  and 
yet  that  itself  as  continually  directs  its  every  act,  and  is 
consequently  free  in  such  act.  For  aught  that  appears 
in  the  argument,  if  it  could  will  at  all,  it  might  still 
freely  will  to  suspend  willing,  though  its  efforts  be 
found  to  be  unavailing.  If,  for  want  of  a  known  mode, 
or  any  other  reason,  we  could  not  thus  will  at  all,  then, 
as  it  is  manifest  that  we  might  still,  as  the  result  of  a 
comparison  of  willing  with  not  willing,  prefer  or  choose 
non-willing,  the  choosing,  which  is  possible,  cannot  be 
the  same  thing  as  the  willing,  which  on  this  hypothesis 
is  impossible;  and  the  main  foundation  of  the  argu 
ment  ifc  thus  destroyed  by  another  essential  support  of 
it.  The  assumption  of  Edwards,  as  above  stated,  would 
however  admit  of  only  the  one  act  suspended,  and  a 
series  of  acts  each  merely  suspending  the  preceding  one ; 
and  each  of  those  acts,  as  his  argument  virtually  as 
serts,  must  be  without  the  preliminary  act  to  consider, 
or  get  any  new  knowledge  ;  for  this  would  not  be  an  act 
to  suspend  the  prior  act.  The  mind's  sphere  of  action 
would  thus  be  curtailed  to  very  narrow  limits.  That 
when  we  perceive  that  a  contemplated  effort  may  be 
better  made  at  some  future  time,  we  may,  in  con 
formity  to  this  perception,  delay  action  till  then,  is  a 
matter  of  fact,  which  I  presume  will  be  admitted,  and 
hence,  in  this  sense,  a  contemplated  act  of  will  may  be 


INDIFFERENCE   TO   FREEDOM   IN   WILLING.  297 

suspended.  In  such  case,  we  may  have  compared  the 
advantage  of  present  with  future  action,  and  come  to  a 
conclusion,  a  decision  in  favor  of  the  latter,  i.  e.,  that  at 
a  certain  time,  or  when  another  expected  event  occurs, 
we  will  make  a  certain  effort ;  but  such  decision  is  not 
itself  the  future  effort,  but  only^present  knowledge  re 
garding  that  effort.  But  we  may  thus  suspend  for  an 
indefinite  time,  or  for  all  time,  and  thus  wholly  aban 
don  and  contemplated  volition,  or  any  portion  of  an 
act  or  series  of  acts.  To  will  to  suspend  an  act  of  will 
is  then  the  same  as  willing  not  to  will,  either  for  the 
time  being,  or  at  all.  Indifference  being  that  condi 
tion  of  the  mind  in  which  it  is  not  willing,  to  say  that 
the  mind  wills  to  keep  itself  in  this  condition  is  to  say 
that  the  mind  wills  not  to  will,  which,  if  asserted  gen 
erally,  involves  the  'absurdity  of  supposing  that,  for  the 
mind  to  cease  willing,  or  not  to  will,  it  must  still  will ; 
that  after  having  once  willed,  non-willing  is  still  only 
another  willing.  The  assertion  that  the  mind  cannot 
suspend  its  willing  by  an  act  of  will,  if  made  in  general 
terms  and  as  applicable  to  all  willing,  must  be  as  true- 
as  that  thought  is  not  suspended  by  thinking,  or  motion 
by  moving.  This  all  amounts  to  saying  that  we  cannot 
do  a  thing  by  not  doing  it,  or  by  doing  the  contrary  to 
it.  But,  even  if  it  be  admitted  that,  in  this  general 
sense,  the  mind  can  only  suspend  its  willing  by  willing 
to  suspend,  it  would  be  a  sufficient  answer  to  this  position 
to  say  that  the  mind  never  wills  thus  generally  •  never 
wills  will,  but  always,  when  willing,  wills  some  partic 
ular  net ;  and  that,  though  it  cannot  stop  action  by  act 
ing,  it  can  still,  even  while  acting,  suspend  one  partic 
ular  act  by  directing  its  power  to  another  particular 
act,  as,  even  though  we  could  not  stop  moving,  we 
13* 


298  BEVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

x  '•'  f 

might  still  suspend  motion  in  one  direction  by  moving 
in  another.  The  liberty  of  the  mind  in  directing  all  its 
actions  might  thus  still  be  maintained  under  the  hy 
pothesis,  that  to  suspend  action  generally,  required  an 
act  to  suspend,  though  the.  exercise  of  liberty  as  to 
acting,  or  not  acting,  might  then  be  denied.  But  the 
particular  jurisdiction  of  the  mind,  which  is  questioned 
by  this  denial  of  its  power  to  suspend  willing,  is  not 
derived  from  any  negative  attribute  of  its  power  not  to 
will,  but  from  its  positive  ability  to  will,  which  is  its 
own  effort,  or  the  exercise  of  its  own  power ;  and  with 
out  such  exercise  there  is  no  act  of  will.  The  mind  has 
then  only  to  refrain  from  any  positive  effort,  which  it 
will  do  whenever  it  sees  reason  for  it,  and  the  condition 
of  non-action,  or  general  suspension  of  its  willing,  is 
reached.  To  suppose  the  mind  to  will  when  itself  does 
not  will — and  this  non-willing  is  its  condition  when 
ever  it  does  not  perceive  any  object,  or  reason  for  will 
ing — involves  the  hypothesis  that  it  is  compelled  by 
some  extraneous  power  to  will ;  and  this,  again,  as  be 
fore  shown,  involves  the  contradiction  of  supposing  it 
to  will,  when  it  is  not  willing,  when  it  is  not  exercising 
its  power,  or  making  any  effort  whatever.  If  the  mind, 
by  extrinsic  power,  can  be  moved  to  will,  when  itself 
perceives  no  reason  for  such  willing,  it  is  not,  in  such 
case,  either  an  intelligent  or  willing  agent  any  more 
than  an  axe  or  other  instrument,  which  is  moved  by 
extrinsic  effort  directed  by  extrinsic  intelligence. 

From  these  general  considerations,  turning  to  par 
ticular  or  individual  acts  of  will,  in  which  alone  they 
can  find  practical  application,  we  would  remark  that, 
by  the  phrase  "  suspending  an  act  of  will "  cannot  be 
meant  suspending  an  act,  or  that  portion  of  an  act,  or 


INDIFFERENCE  TO   FEEEDOM   IN   WILLING.  299 

of  a  series  of  acts  already  accomplished ;  nor  can  it 
apply  to  an  act  of  which  the  mind  has  yet  had  no  idea, 
but  must  have  reference  only  to  such  acts  as  the  mind 
has  already  contemplated  and  intended,  determined,  or 
chosen  to  do.  But  here,  under  Edwards's  definitions,  it 
may  be  said  that  what  has  been  chosen  has  already 
been  willed^  and  hence  the  willing  it  could  not  be  sus 
pended.  The  fallacy  of  this  position,  resting  on  the 
assumed  identity  of  choice  and  will,  has  already  been 
exposed.  But  further  to  illustrate :  suppose  a  man  is 
reading  aloud,  and  has  already  pronounced  the  first  syl 
lable  of  the  word  "  gallows,"  when  a  man  suddenly 
enters  whose  father  was  hanged.  The  reader  may  then 
perceive  a  reason  for  suspending  the  act  of  pronouncing 
the  last  syllable,  and  do  so.  His  knowledge  is  altered, 
and  he  conforms  to  it  by  suspending  or  abandoning  the 
act  he  intended.  The  same  thing  occurs  whenever  by 
any  change  of  knowledge  he  perceives,  not,  as  in  the 
case  just  mentioned,  that  the  contemplated  act  will  be 
injurious,  but  merely  that  it  will  not  be  in  any  wise 
beneficial ;  there  is  then  no  perceived  or  known  reason 
for  action,  and  without  such  knowledge,  an  intelligent 
being  does  not  exert  its  power  to  produce  change. 
Again,  suppose  that,  when  the  reader  had  pronounced 
the  first  syllable,  a  man  enters,  whose  presence  suggests 
no  direct  reason  for  not  finishing  the  word,  but  with 
whom  he  has  urgent  business  ;  he  may,  for  this  reason, 
suspend  the  contemplated  act  to  finish  the  word, -that 
by  another  act  he  may  attend  to  something  more  press 
ing.  In  this  case  one  act  is  suspended  to  make  room 
for  another  act.  The  mind  suspends  its  intended  act, 
in  the  first  instance  above  stated,  because  it  perceives 
a  reason  against  such  action.  In  the  second  instance, 


300  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

because  it  perceives  that  there  is  no  good  reason  for  the 
act ;  and  in  the  third  instance,  because  it  perceives  there 
is  a  reason  for  preferring  another  act.  Whether,  in  this 
last  case,  the  suspension  of  the  one  act  is  the  conse 
quence  of  the  other  act,  or  only  a  necessary  preliminary 
to  it,  may  be  a  question  ;  if  the  former,  then  the  mind 
suspends  the  first  act  fo/,  or  as  a  consequence  of  its 
second ;  and  if  the  latter,  it  first  suspends  one  act, 
ceasing  to  act  in  it,  that  it  may »after ward  do  another. 
The  question  is  not  here  material,  as  the  first  contem 
plated  act  of  will  is  in  either  event  suspended.  If  this 
suspension  is  a  consequence  of  the  mind's  effort  to  do 
something  else,  the  doing  something  else  is  a  mode  in 
which  the  mind,  by  its  own  action,  suspends  a  contem 
plated  volition ;  and  if  there  is  a  preliminary  act  sus 
pending  this  contemplated  volition,  then  the  mind  thus 
suspends  because,  in  the  more  urgent  demand  for  an 
other  act,  it  perceives  a  reason  for  such  preliminary  act 
to  suspend ;  and  then,  in  the  instances  above  stated, 
the  third  becomes  the  same  as  the  first,  in  which  the 
mind  suspends  an  act  because  it  perceives  a  reason  for 
such  suspension.  All  these  reasons  may  be  simple  per 
ceptions  of  the  mind,  without  any  effort  to  reach  them ; 
and  when  the  mind  perceives  a  reason  for  not  acting,  it 
can,  in  the  aggregate  of  its  knowledge,  perceive  no  rea 
son  for  acting  ;  and  when  it  does  not  perceive  a  reason 
to  act  it  does  not  act ;  and  not  to  perceive  a  reason  re- 
juires  no  act,  so  that  this  suspension  may  take  place 
without  an  act  to  suspend. 

As  already  shown,  to  will  to  suspend  an  act  of  will 
is  equivalent  to  willing  not  to  will.  "We  have  also 
stated  that  a  man  never  wills  to  will  generally.  If  the 
will  is  a  faculty  for  which  the  mind  wants  exercise,  it 


INPIFFEKENCE  TO   FREEDOM   EST   WILLING.  301 

may  seek  to  gratify  that  want,  but,  in  doing  so,  must 
will,  not  generally,  but  some  particular  act.  This  posi 
tion  is  easily  brought  to  the  test  of  experiment.  There 
is  obviously  no  way  in  which  the  mind  can  will  gen 
erally.  Will  is  the  mode  in  which  the  mind  manifests 
its  power ;  and  to  will  generally  would  be  to  exert 
power  for  no  object  and  with  no  preponderance  in  one 
direction  rather  than  another,  which  would  be  to  exert 
it  equally  in  all  directions  ;  and  power  exerted  equally 
in  all  directions  must  neutralize  itself,  and  there  would 
then  be  no  manifestation  of  power  whatever  in  any 
direction.  So  far  from  the  mind's  being  able  to  will 
thus  generally,  it  cannot  even  will  distinct  genera  of 
acts.  If  we  want  and  even  decide  upon  or  choose 
bodily  movement  generally,  we  must  know  what  por 
tion  of  the  body  to  move  and  in  what  direction,  before 
we  can  will  the  movement.  To  will  movement  in  no 
direction,  or  equally  in  all  directions,  would  be  to  will 
no  movement.  If  we  want  to  reason,  we  must  know 
something  to  reason  about,  and,  at  each  step  of  the  rea 
soning,  must  get  a  perception,  find — not  make — the 
logical  sequence.  Nor  do  we  ever  will  to  will  a  partic 
ular  act,  but  directly  will  the  act.  To  say  a  man  wills 
an  act  of  will,  or  thinks  thoughts,  or  knows  knowledge, 
expresses  no  more  than  to  say  he  wills,  he  thinks,  he 
knows.  To  will  to  will  is  to  rn^ke  effort  to  make  effort, 
i.  e.j  to  do  the  thing  to  be  done  in  order  to  the  doing  it. 
The  nearest  approach  we  can  make  to  willing  to  will,  is 
when  we  want  exercise  for  the  faculty  of  will,  i.  e.,  to 
exert  our  power  without  reference  to  any  benefit  to  be 
derived  from  the  effort ;  as  we  may  want  exercise  for 
the  body  without  any  reference  to  any  ulterior  result. 
If  we  want  such  exercise  for  the  will,  and  especially  if 


302  REVIEW    OF   EDWAKDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

we  want  that  peculiar  exercise  of  selecting  objects  or 
acts  arbitrarily,  without  a  preliminary  act  to  compare, 
or  judge  of  consequences,  we  will,  in  gratifying  such 
want,  display  the  characteristics  of  caprice.  We,  how 
ever,  still  directly  will  particular  acts,  and  do  not 
merely  will  to  will.  The  mind,  then,  in  no  case,  either 
general  or  particular,  wills  to  will ;  and  for  stronger 
reasons  it  does  not  will  to  not  will.  To  will  not  to 
will,  in  a  general  sense,  would  be  doing  a  thing  in 
order  not  to  do  it ;  and,  in  regard  to  a  particular  act, 
the  mind  may  decide  not  to  do  it,  and  not  doing  re 
quires  no  effort.  The  mind's  act  of  will  is  based  di 
rectly  upon  its  perceptions  of  a  reason  for  such  act ; 
and  its  non-action  results  from  its  not  perceiving  any 
reason  to  act,  or  from  its  perceiving  a  reason  to  suspend 
any  contemplated  act.  In  all  these  cases,  it  is  the 
intelligent  being  that  governs ;  in  all,  the  mind,  by 
means  of  its  knowledge,  determines  how  to  act,  or 
whether  to  act  or  not. 

To  suppose  that  to  suspend  an  act  of  will,  or  to 
stop  willing,  requires  an  act  of  will,  or,  in  other  words, 
that  to  stop  making  effort  requires  an  effort,  is  to  sup 
pose  some  power  acting  on  the  mind  to  cause  it  to  will. 
But  the  only  other  things  necessarily  involved  in  its 
volition  are  its  want  and  its  knowledge :  neither  of 
these,  as  distinct  entities^  can,  singly  or  combined,  will, 
or  direct  the  act  of  will ;  this  must  be  done  by  the  mind, 
the  active  being,  that  wants  and  knows.  But  even  sup 
posing  a  power  to  inhere  in  this  want  and  knowledge 
to  produce  an  act  of  will,  the  moment  the  want  ceases, 
or  the  moment  the  knowledge  changes  and  the  mind 
perceives  that  the  contemplated  act  will  not  tend  to 
gratify  its  want,  such  power  ceases  ;  and,  in  that  case,* 


INDIFFERENCE  TO   FREEDOM   IN   WILLING.  303 

the  contemplated  act  of  will  would  be  suspended,  not 
by  an  act  of  will,  but  simply  by  non-action.  If  the 
knowledge  is  so  changed  that  the  inind,  instead  of 
merely  perceiving  that  a  contemplated  act  will  not 
effect  its  object,  or  is  not  preferable  to  non-action,  or 
perceives  that  another  act  is  preferable,  then  still,  as  re 
gards  the  first  contemplated  act,  there  is  only  non- 
action,  and  not  an  act  to  suspend  it  before  the  other 
act  becomes  possible. 

I  would  here  further  observe,  that  a  want  demand 
ing  effort  may  be  more  than  neutralized  by  the  simple 
perception  that  repose  is  more  wanted,  and  no  effort  be 
made,  the  mind  still  conforming  its  conduct  to  its 
knowledge.  We  always  will,  put  forth  our  power, 
make  effort  for  some  object,  and  this  object  always  is 
to  make  the  future  different  from  what  it  otherwise 
would  be.  If  we  already  are  not  willing,  we  do  not 
will  not  to  will,  for  we  seek  no  change  in  that  respect. 
Even  if,  in  such  case,  we  could  conceive  that  there 
might  still  be  a  want  not  to  will,  what  we  want  already 
is,  and  no  effort  is  required  to  gratify  the  want.  If  we 
are  willing,  we  cease  the  willing,  we  cease  to  make 
effort,  as  soon  as  the  end  is  accomplished,  or  as  soon  as 
we  perceive  any  other  sufficient  reason  for  ceasing ;  and 
without  a  special  effort  to  cease  making  effort,  without 
a  special  act  of  will  to  stop  willing.  So  far  from  our 
willing  not  to  will,  it  is,  at  least,  very  doubtful  whether 
we  ever  will,  or  ever  can  will  not  to  do,  or  not  to  try  to 
do.  We  will  to  do  something,  and  not  to  do  nothing. 
If  the  case  of  willing  not  to  do  differs  from  that  of  will 
ing  not  to  will,  or  is  anything  more  than  a  particular 
case  of  it,  still,  either  generally,  or  in  each  particular 
case  of  doing,  it  may  be  said  that,  if  we  already  are  not 


304:  EEVIEW    OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

doing,  we  do  not  will  non-doing,  for  we  seek  no  change 
in  that  respect,  and  the  argument  we  have  just  stated 
in  regard  to  willing  not  to  will,  applies  to  willing  not 
to  do,  both  generally  and  in  any  particular  case.  "When 
the  question  is  between  doing  one  thing  or  another 
thing,  we  seek  knowledge,  and  our  conclusion  is  a 
choice,  a  decision  as  between  them ;  and  when  it  is 
between  doing  and  not  doing  anything,  we  also  choose, 
decide,  as  between  doing  and  not  doing  ;  but  in  neither 
case  is  the  decision,  the  conclusion,  or  choice  itself,  the 
act  of  will,  or  the  trying  to  do,  but  only  the  knowledge, 
found  by  a  preliminary  act  for  that  purpose.  In  the 
first  case  we  have  found — come  tb  know  what  to  try  to 
do  ;  and  in  the  second,  we  have  come  to  know  whether 
to  try  to  do,  or  to  refrain  from  trying  to  do  5  and  if  the 
decision  is  in  favor  of  the  latter,  that  knowledge  ends 
the  matter.  In  this  the  mind  conforms  to  its  knowledge, 
its  decision,  by  refraining  from  further  action.  In  all 
these  cases,  the  decision  of  the  mind  may  be  the  result 
of  previous  effort  to  obtain  knowledge ;  but  if  the  ques 
tion  arises  as  between  action  and  non-action  generally, 
or  even  as  between  a  particular  act  and  such  non-action ; 
i.  e.)  whether,  when  a  case  arises  in  which  we  perceive 
action  may  in  some  respects  be  advantageous,  we  will 
give  any  attention,  any  thought  whatever  to  it ;  the 
decision  of  such  question  must  be  an  immediate  percep 
tion  of  the  mind ;  for  any  preliminary  effort  to  obtain 
more  knowledge,  including  any  effort  to  recall  and 
apply  what  we  know,  or  to  arrange  it  so  as  to  aid  our 
perception,  is  another  action,  manifesting  that  the  mind 
has  already  decided,  in  view  of  the  premises,  to  act. 
The  whole  phenomena  in  such  case  is  perhaps  expressed 
by  saying,  the  mind  immediately  perceives,  knows, 


INDIFFERENCE  TO   FREEDOM   IN   WILLING.  305 

without  effort,  whether  action  or  repose  suits  it  best ; 
and  its  freedom,  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  lies  in  its  abil 
ity  to  conform  itself  to  this  knowledge,  without  extrinsic 
constraint  or  restraint.  Hence,  even  if  it  could  be 
shown  that  this  question,  as  between  action-  and  non- 
action,  arises  with  every  want  or  occasion  for  action,  it 
would  not  argue  necessity,  for  the  mind  still  decides 
the  question  with  such  view,  such  knowledge,  as  it 
already  has  ;  and,  in  so  doing,  determines  upon  its  own 
action,  or  non-action  ;  and  the  arising  of  such  question 
only  furnishes  an  occasion  for- the  exercise  of  its  liberty, 
in  exerting,  or  not  exerting  its  powers,  as  the  question 
between  various  acts  furnishes  the  occasion  for  the  ex 
ercise  of  its  liberty  in  directing  its  efforts ;  though  the 
latter  case  admits  of  preliminary  effort  to  discover  the 
mode  or  direction,  while  the  former  does  not ;  non-ac 
tion  has  no  mode  or  direction. 

I  have  before  suggested  that  the  choice  by  the  mind 
may  be  its  immediate  perception  that  one  thing  is  bet 
ter  than  another.  If,  however,  the  decision  of  the  ques 
tion  between  action  and  repose,  involves  a  comparison, 
requiring  preliminary  effort,  then  the  non-action  of  the 
mind,  or  its  refraining  from  action  in  such  cases,  must 
always  arise  from  an  immediate  perception  of  some 
positive  and  not  comparative  advantages,  or  disadvan 
tages  of  repose,  or  of  action.  In  themselves,  repose  or 
action  may  be  either  pleasurable  or  painful.  It  ap 
pears,  then,  that  though  the  mind  can  both  will  and 
suspend  its  act  of  will,  or  not  will,  it  requires  no  dis 
tinct  act  of  will,  either  to  will,  or  not  to  will ;  that,  in 
willing,  it  directly  wills  the  particular  act,  and  does  not 
first  will  to  will  it ;  and  that,  in  not  willing,  it  as  di- 


306  REVIEW   OF   EDWAEDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

rectly  refrains  from  the  particular  action,  and  does  not 
will  not  to  will  it :  it  merely  does  not  act  at  all. 

If  our  action  is  to  be  reenforced,  strengthened,  or 
made  persistent,  it  is  not  by  willing  to  will,  but  by 
means  of  knowledge,  which  may  be  inculcated  by 
others,  or  found  by  our  own  efforts  and  dwelt  upon  till 
our  perceptions  of  the  benefit  or  pleasure  expected 
from  the  act  become  so  vivid,  that  a  want,  not  in  it 
self  urgent,  glows  in  desire,  or  is  inflamed  to  passion ; 
and  the  mind  then  wills  without  reference  to  any  collat 
eral  or  remote  consequences,  and  without  comparing 
the  advantages,  which  so  absorb  it,  with  those  which 
might  be  derived  from  other  action,  or  from  non-action. 
Those  cases  of  action  in  which  the  mind  is  absorbed  by 
one  view,  or  one  object,  though  the  absorption  is  the 
result  of  its  previous  action,  or  attention,  or  thought 
devoted  to  the  subject,  become,  in  some  respects,  similar 
to  those  in  which  the  mind  acts  on  an  immediate  per 
ception,  without  seeking  more  knowledge  to  direct  its 
action.  In  them  it  has  sought  more  knowledge,  but 
only  in  one  direction,  and  still  acts  upon  a  single  idea. 
It  is  in  such  cases  that  the  aid  of  others,  in  presenting 
their  views  and  imparting  their  knowledge,  may  most 
obviously  be  useful ;  and  especially  in  those  cases  in 
which  the  absorbing  object,  or  the  immediate  percep 
tion,  upon  which  the  mind  is  about  to  act,  is  the  grati 
fication  of  some  want  which  ought  not  to  be  gratified. 
When  this  is  in  conflict  with  our  own  knowledge  of 
what  is  morally  right,  it  becomes  so  important,  that 
God  never  permits  such  action  without  a  monition 
through  the  moral  sense,  warning  us  to  refrain  from 
the  mutila.tion,  or  degradation  of  our  being,  and  sug 
gesting  search  of  that  knowledge,  which,  by  a  faith  in 


RELATION   OF   INDIFFERENCE   TO   FREEDOM.  307 

the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence, 
intuitive,  or  early  acquired,  we  know  will  reconcile 
gratification  and  duty. 

There  are  some  cases  in  which  the  mind  really  de 
cides  its  action  upon  an  immediate  perception  of  the 
gratification  to  be  derived  from  such  action,  and  still, 
to  avoid  the  painful  sensation  of  self-reproach  in  do 
ing  what  it  knows  to  be  wrong,  seeks  by  preliminary 
act  to  find  reason  to  reconcile  the  act  with  its  sense  of 
duty  ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  by  its  power  to  direct  its 
efforts,  seeks  the  arguments  which  favor,  and  excludes 
attention  to  those  which  oppose  the  act ;  or  it  may  do 
the  softie  thing  to  find  a  reason  to  convince  others, 
and  thus  avoid  or  mitigate  their  censure.  Such  dis 
honest  mind,  in  the  first  case,  makes  the  vain  effort  to 
deceive  itself.  In  the  latter  case,  it  seeks  to  deceive 
others  ;  and  in  this  may  possibly  succeed. 

The  reasoning  of  Edwards,  which  we  have  just  been 
considering  in  this  chapter,  has  little  bearing  upon  my 
position,  except  that  his  denial  of  the  liberty  of  the 
mind  to  suspend  a  volition^  denies  the  mind's  liberty 
in  this  one  particular.  This  denial  is  associated  with 
indifference  only  by  the  assertion  of  his  opponents  that 
the  object  of  the  suspension  is  to  keep  the  mind  "  in  a 
state  of  indifference  until  there  has  been  opportunity  for 
consideration."  This,  on  the  grounds  I  have  stated,  is 
merely  to  say,  until  there  has  been  time  to  obtain  more 
knowledge  ;  and,  if  that  knowledge  is  sought  by  effort, 
it  is  only  one  case  of  the  mind's  suspending  one  act  of 
will  to  make  room  for  another.  It  was  not,  then,  im 
portant  to  my  own  position  to  have  thus  followed  the 
whole  of  this  argument  "  concerning  the  notion  of  the 
liberty  of  will  consisting  in  indifference  ;  "  but  the  ex- 


308  REVIEW    OF    EDWAKDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

animation  may  serve  to  illustrate  my  own  views,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  show  how  thoroughly  the  reasoning 
of  Edwards  is  based  on  his  two  irreconcilable  definitions, 
the  one  making  choice  the  act  of  will,  and  the  other 
making  it  the  result  of  a  comparative  act,  which  is  only 
knowledge  sought  and  obtained  by  that  act.  As  before 
observed,  he  also  confounds  the  choice  with  the  act  of 
comparing  of  which  it  is  the  result ;  and  thus  produces 
additional  confusion  and  error.  I  may  further  remark 
that,  in  conformity  to  his  assumption  that  to  choose  and 
to  will  are  the  same,  he  inverts  his  definition,  and  in 
stead  of  making  the  "  will  that  by  which  the  mind 
chooses,"  makes  the  choice  that  T>y  which  the  minU  wills. 

No  real  progress  could  logically  be  made  by  this 
use  of  identical  terms,  and  it  is  only  by  -using  one  of 
them  in  a  different  sense,  or  as  both  identical  and  not 
identical  with  the  other,  that  any  conclusion,  beyond 
what  iS)  is,  can  be  reached,  and  then  with  all  the  lia 
bility  to  error  involved  in  the  double  and  incompatible 
definitions. 

There  is,  however,  in  this  word  indifference,  as  used 
by  Edwards  to  denote  that  state  in  which  we  are  not 
willing  and  have  no  choice,  an  important  significance, 
indicating  the  point  of  the  mind's  departure  from  the 
passive  to  the  active  condition.  In  profound  sleep  it  is 
thus  indifferent,  and  being  then  unconscious  of  any 
want,  or  any  reason  for  willing,  it  does  not  will ;  and 
any  change  which  takes  place  in  itself,  or  in  other 
things,  must  then  be  produced  by  other  agencies.  Its 
waking,  or  being  roused  from  this  unconscious  state, 
must  be  brought  about  by  agencies  external  to  itself. 
It  must,  however,  be  still  susceptible,  at  least  to  some 
sensations,  for  it  cannot  change  itself;  and  if  it  could 


t 

RELATION   OF   INDIFFERENCE   TO  FREEDOM.  309 

not  know  any  changes  produced  by  extraneous  agen 
cies,  it  never  could  be  awakened.  The  sensation  "could 
produce  no  effect  upon  the  mind  until  the  mind  recog 
nized  it.  If  this  passive  state  is  not  itself  profound 
sleep  ;  if,  when  awake,  the  mind  is  even  entirely  inac 
tive,  its  condition  can  then  vary  from  that  of  profound 
sleep  only  in  its  greater  susceptibility  to  the  effects  of 
extrinsic  activities.  Without  action  it  cannot  change 
either  its  own  passive  condition  or  anything  else.  It 
may,  however,  in  its  passive  condition,  be  acted  upon, 
and  the  first  step  in  this  change  from  the  passive  to  the 
active  condition  is  a  perception  of  some  change  ;  and  in 
its  feelings  or  perceptions  growing  out  of  such  change, 
it  may  find  reason  for  acting  itself.  If  this  change  is 
from  a  satisfied  condition  to  that  of  a  want,  for  instance, 
to  that  of  hunger,  or  thirst,  arising  without  our  volition, 
we  act  in  reference  to  its  relief.  When  we  are  fatigued 
and  need  sleep,  we  require  greater  inducements  to  act, 
and  in  proportion  to  our  exhaustion ;  for  this  exhaus 
tion  is  a  reason  or  want  not  to  act,  and  must  be  over 
balanced  by  a  counter  reason  or  want ;  but  so  long  as 
we  are  conscious,  so  long  as  we  Tcnow,  we  can,  for  per 
ceived  reason,  resist  the  change  to  sleep,  or  seek  to  pro 
duce  some  other  change,  though,  from  causes  beyond 
our  control,  we  may  not  have  the%power  ;  from  exhaus 
tion,  the  instruments  of  the  mind  may  have  become  too 
weak,  as  a  decayed  lever  will  not,  by  the  application 
of  the  same  power,  raise  the  weight  for  which  it  once 
would  have  sufficed.  But,  with  every  change  about 
us,  we  either  intuitively  or  habitually  know  that  some 
action  on  our  part  may  be  required  to  avail  of  benefi 
cial,  or  to  protect  ourselves  from  evil  consequences ; 
and  we  usually  give  enough  effort  by  thought,  to  every 


310  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

such  change,  to  enable  us  to  form  a  judgment,  some 
times  a  too  hasty  one,  as  to  the  necessity  or  expediency 
of  further  effort,  by  thought  or  otherwise. 

.  The  effort  of  the  mind,  by  thought  or  observation, 
to  find  what  is  transpiring  and  what  further  efforts 
the  changes  around  it  may  require,  is  called  ATTENTION  ; 
and  this  generally  marks  the  first  change  from  the 
passive  to  the  active  mental  condition.  It  does  not, 
however,  always  require  an  effort  of  any  kind  to  know 
the  changes  which  are  taking  place.  It  requires  no 
effort  to  know  the  sensation,  which  itself  is  a  change 
indicating  some  other  change.  We  know  we  are  hun 
gry,  and  we  hear  the  discharge  of  a  gun,  without  effort ; 
and  with  the  sensation,  the  knowledge,  not  only  as  to 
whether  the  change  indicated  by  it  demands  effort,  or 
not ;  but,  if  it  does,  the  knowledge  of  the  particular 
effort  demanded  may  be  an  immediate  perception,  with 
out  any  preliminary  effort ;  and,  if  this  ever  happens, 
the  mind's  activity  then  commences  with  the  effort,  the 
reason  for  which  is  thus  perceived  without  a  prelimi 
nary  effort  of  attention  in  examining  the  changed  or 
changing  events.  The  circumstances  most  favorable 
to  this  immediate  perception  of  the  requirement  or  non- 
requirement  of  effort,  are  when  the  change  is  one  of 
frequent  occurrence,  so  that  the  application  of  our 
knowledge  has  become  habitual,  and  especially  when 
the  change  is  one  in  which  we  perceive  and  have  usual 
ly  before  perceived  no  reason  for  effort.  In  such  cases 
it  may  be  difficult  to  determine  whether  the  decision  is 
an  immediate  perception,  or  the  result  of  an  effort ;  but 
the  probability  seems  to  be  that,  with  observed  change, 
the  mind  generally  puts  forth  an  effort  of  attention 
to  find  if  any  action,  or  change  of  action,  is  thereby 


KELATION   OF   INDIFFERENCE  TO   FREEDOM.  311 

required,  and  if  not,  that  it  again  relapses  into  a  state 
of  repose,  or  resumes  its  previous  course  of  action.  It 
thus  suspends  one  action,  till,  by  another,  it  ascertains 
whether  the  changed  circumstances  require  the  first  to 
be  longer  delayed,  or  wholly  abandoned.  In  cases  like 
those  just  alluded  to,  the  time  and  effort  required  for 
this  are  hardly  appreciable,  and  if  we  are,  at  the  mo 
ment,  conscious  of  an  effort,  it  is  presently  obliterated 
from  the  memory.  The  striking  of  a  clock,  which, 
a  moment  afterward,  we  are  unconscious  of  having 
heard,  is  a  familiar  illustration.  The  striking  has  be 
fore  frequently  occurred,  and,  with  exceptional  cases, 
as  when  marking  that  the  time  for  some  action  has 
arrived,  we  have  in  it  found  no  reason  for  effort.  But 
the  mind  must  have  recognized  the  sensation  at  the 
moment,  for  it  would  have  heard  the  faintest  whisper  ; 
nothing  external  to  the  mind  causes  it  to  hear  the  one 
and  not  the  other,  and  itself  could  not  make  this  dis 
tinction  without  first  knowing  what  it  was  distinguish 
ing  between.  The  sensation  produced  by  the  striking 
has  furnished  no  ground  for  action,  has  given  us  neither 
pleasure  nor  pain  ;  we  have  not  even  drawn  any  infer 
ence  from  it  as  to  the  time,  present  or  past ;  and  the 
whole  phenomenon  is  thus  reduced  almost  to  nothing 
ness,  leaving  very  little  that  could  be  remembered,  and 
this  so  isolated,  so  free  from  association  with  other 
knowledge,  that  it  is  immediately  left  out  and  lost. 
The  striking  of  a  clock,  leaving  a  sensation  which 
merely  marks  the  passage  of  time,  is  in  some  respects 
peculiar.  Our  mere  progress  through  time  has  little 
more  effect  upon  us  than  our  movement  with  the  earth 
through  space,  which,  even  when  recognized,  does  not 
usually  induce  any  effort,  though,  as  in  the  exceptional 


312  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

cases  in  regard  to  the  striking  of  the  clock,  the  infer 
ences  from  it,  as  that  short  days  and  cold  weather  are 
approaching,  may  be  a  reason  for  some  effort,  or  change 
of  effort.  The  constant  murmur  of  the  forest,  or  the 
roar  of  ocean,  though  indicating  no  such  change  as 
calls  for  action,  and  seemingly  unheeded  by  those  ac 
customed  to  it,  is  yet  recognized  by  the  mind ;  for  if 
it  suddenly  ceases  we  know  it,  and  we  could  not  know 
of  the  cessation  of  the  sound,  without  first  knowing  the 
sound  that  ceased.  In  such  cases,  the  sensation  not 
only  does  not  indicate  any  change  requiring  action,  but 
the  continuous  monotony  of  sound  is  an  assurance  to 
the  mind  that,  so  far,  no  such  change  is  taking  place. 
This  partially  relieves  the  mind  from  its  wonted  watch 
fulness  in  regard  to  the  external,  and  favors  its  becom 
ing  absorbed  in  reverie,  or  concentrated  upon  abstract 
speculation. 


f 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

CONTINGENCE. 

IN  the  eighth,  and  ninth  sections  of  Part  II. ,  Ed 
wards,  treating  of  "  the  supposed  liberty  of  the  will  as 
opposite  to  all  necessity,"  and  "  the  connection  of  the 
acts  of  the  will  with  the  dictates  of  the  understanding," 
says :  "  I  would  inquire  whether  there  is,  or  can  be 
any  such  thing  as  a  volition  which  is  contingent  in  such 
a  sense,  as  not  only  to  come  to  pass  without  any  neces 
sity  of  constraint,  or  coaction,  but  also  without  a  neces 
sity  of  consequence ',  or  an  infallible  connection  with 
anything  foregoing  "  (p.  96)  ;  and  soon  after,  referring 
to  this,  says  :  "  And  here  it  must  be  remembered  that 

j          «/ 

it  has  been  already  shown,  that  nothing  can  ever  come 
to  pass  without  a  cause,  or  reason  why  it  exists  in  this 
manner  rather  than  another  ;  and  the  evidence  of  this 
has  been  particularly  applied  to  the  acts  of  the  will. 
Now,  if  this  be  so,  it  will  demonstrably  follow  that  the 
acts  of  the  will  are  never  contingent,  or  without  neces 
sity,  in  the  sense  spoken  of ;  inasmuch  as  those  things 
which  have  a  cause,  or  reason  of  their  existence,  must 
be  connected  with  their  cause.  This  appears  by  the 
following  consideration  :  for  an  event  to  have  a  cause 
14 


314:  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

and  ground  of  its  existence,  and  yet  not  be  connected 
with  its  cause,  is  an  inconsistence  "  (p.  96).  He  then 
proceeds  to  prove  this  last  proposition.  Admitting  it, 
still,  as  already  intimated  in  my  remarks  on  "  No  Event 
without  a  Cause  "  (Part  II.,  Sec.  3),  if  mind  itself  is 
the  .cause  of  the  event,  it  only  proves  in  reference  to 
such  events,  "  the  acts  of  the  will,"  that  they  are  con 
nected  with  the  mind,  but  does  not  at  all  tend  to  show 
whether  that  mind,  the  active  power,  which  produces 
them  and  is  their  cause,  acts  freely,  or  otherwise.  It 
is  a  mere  abstract  proposition  involved  in  the  notions, 
or  definitions  of  cause  and  effect,  and  just  as  true  of  one 
kind  of  cause  as  of  another ;  and  hence,  indicating  no 
distinguishing  quality  or  property  of  that  cause ;  of 
course  this  cannot  indicate  whether  that  cause  is  free 
or  not  free.  That  mind  may  be-such  a  cause,  and  espe 
cially  under  the  great  latitude  with  which  Edwards 
says  he  uses  the  term  cause,  I  trust  I  have  already  suffi 
ciently  shown. 

At  the  commencement  of  section  ninth,  he  thus  re 
iterates  the  conclusion  at  which  he  arrives  in  section 
eighth,  and  applies  it  to  his  argument :  "  It  is  manifest 
that  the  acts  of  the  will  are  none  of  them  contingent  in 
such  a  sense  as  to  be  without  all  necessity,  or  so  as  not 
to  be  necessary  with  a  necessity  of  consequence  and 
connection  ;  because  every  act  of  the  will  is  some  way 
connected  with  the  understanding,  and  is  as  the  great 
est  apparent  good  is,  in  the  manner  which  has  already 
been  explained  ;  namely,  that  the  soul  always  wills,  or 
chooses  that  which,  in  the  present  view  of  the  mind, 
considered  in  the  whole  of  that  view  and  all  that  be 
longs  to  it,  appears  most  agreeable.  Because,  as  was 
observed  before,  nothing  is  more  evident  than  that, 


CONTINGENCE.  315 

when  men  act  voluntarily,  and  do  what  they  please, 
then  they  do  what  appears  most  agreeable  to  them ; 
and  to  say  otherwise  would  be  as  much  as  to  affirm 
that  men  do  not  choose  what  appears  to  suit  them  best, 
or  what  seems  most  pleasing  to  them  ;  or  that  they  do 
not  choose  what  they  prefer,  which  brings  the  matter 
to  a  contradiction  "  (p.  100). 

So  far  as  regards  the  volition,  this  contradiction 
appears  only  when  will  and  choice  are  deemed  iden 
tical.  I  do  not  mean  to  assert  or  to  deny  that  "  acts 
of  the  will  are  none  of  them  contingent,"  in  some  of 
the  various  senses  in  which  that  term  seems  to  be  used. 
If  the  above  argument  only  implies  that  acts  of  the 
will,  taking  will  to  be  a  distinct  entity,  capable  itself 
of  action,  are  necessary  because  they  "  in  some  way  are 
connected  with  the  understanding,  and  are  as  the  great 
est  apparent  good  is,"  I  shall  only  object  that,  there  is 
no  such  will  and  no  such  acts  of  will  to  be  subject  to 
such  necessity ;  or,  if  the  argument  implies  that  the 
will,  considered  as  a  mere  faculty  of  the  mind  and  itself 
incapable  of  action,  is  not  free  because  it  is  controlled 
by  the  mind,  then  it  does  not  even  tend  to  prove  any 
necessity  of  mind  in  willing ;  but  is  one  step  toward 
the  proof  of  its  freedom.  But  if,  by  the  acts  of  the  will, 
Edwards  means,  as  he  repeatedly  claims  to  do,  "  the 
acts  of  the  mind  or  soul  in  willing,"  then  the  .argument 
is  self-contradictory  and  absurd ;  for,  as  before  observed, 
the  understanding,  in  his  system  generally,  and  espe 
cially  in  its  present  application,  embraces  all  the  powers 
and  faculties  of  the  mind,  except  that  of  the  will ;  and 
hence,  to  say  that  the  mind,  in  the  act  of  willing,  does 
not  will  freely,  or  acts  from  necessity,  because  the  act 
of  will  is,  in  some  way,  connected  with  the  understand- 


316  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

ing,  is  to  say  that  the  mind,  in  the  act  of  willing,  does 
not  act  freely  because  the  act  of  willing  is,  in  some 
way,  connected  with  the  mind,  which  is  absurd.  And 
to  say  that,  in  the  act  of  willing,  the  mind  does  not  act 
freely,  because  every  act  of  its  will  is  in  conformity  to 
its  views  of  the  greatest  apparent  good,  or  because  it 
"  always  wills,  or  chooses  that  which  in  the  present 
view  of  the  mind  "  "  appears  most  agreeable ; "  and 
that  this  is  so,  because  when  men  act  voluntarily  and 
do  what  they  please,  then  they  do  what  appears  most 
agreeable  to  them,  is  contradictory.  It  is,  in  effect, 
saying  that  the  mind  does  not  act  freely  in  willing,  be 
cause,  in  willing,  it  cannot  do  otherwise  than  direct  its 
own  action,  which  is  to  act  freely ;  and  hence,  is  subject 
to  this  necessity ',  or  is  constrained  to  be  free  in  its  action. 
It  is  like  saying,  freedom  is  not  free,  because  it  cannot 
~be  otherwise  than  free  •  and  hence,  is  subject  to  the 
necessity,  or  is  constrained  to  be  free;  and -this  is  as 
serting  that,  what  is,  is  not  /  and  that  it  is  not  for  the 
very  reason  that  it  is ;  than  which,  I  apprehend,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  involve  more  absurdity  and  con 
tradiction  in  the  same  space.  All  those  arguments 
which  attempt  to  prove  necessity  from  the  dependence 
of  the  act  of  will  upon  other  faculties  of  the  mind, 
among  them  that  quoted  from  Edwards  (p.  96),  more 
or  less  involve  this  absurdity.  If  the  object  were  to 
prove  that  the  will  itself  as  an  entity,  distinct  from 
the  willing  agent,  is  not  free,  because  the  will  is  de 
pendent  upon  and  controlled  by  the  willing  agent,  the 
argument  would  be  valid ;  but  Edwards  avows  that,  by 
will  he  means  the  "  soul  in  willing ;  "  and  that  such 
willing  is  dependent  upon  and  controlled  by  the  soul, 
or  by  the  understanding,  whether  viewed  as  a  distinct 


CONTINGENCE.  317 

portion  of  the  mind,  or  as  a  mere  mode  of  its  effort, 
goes  to  prove  the  freedom  of  the  soul  in  willing.  In 
section  thirteenth,  he  applies  a  similar  course  of  reason 
ing,  or  an  extension  of  it,  to  show  that,  even  if  the  will 
itself  is  the  cause  of  the  acts  of  the  will,  still  the  will  is 
not  free,  because  being  an  effect  it  must  still  be  con 
trolled  by  its  cause,  though  that  cause  be  itself;  that  is 
to  say,  if  the  will,  as  cause,  controls  itself,  it  is  not  free, 
which  confounds  all  distinction  between  what  is  free 
and  what  is  not  free.  For,  as  I  intimated  in  defining 
freedom,  if  that  which  controls  itself  is  not  free,  and  it 
must  be  admitted  that,  that  which  is  controlled  by 
something  else  is  also  not  free,  then,  as  everything  in 
action  mast  either  control  itself,  or  be  controlled  by 
something  besides  itself,  there  is  no  such  thing  possible 
as  free  action ;  and  the  term  free  being  wholly  un 
meaning  in  such  application,  we  could  then  as  well 
reason  about  violet,  or  triangular  time,  or  dxfg  will,  as 
about  free  will.  The  fallacy  of  this,  and  of  the  argu 
ment  before  quoted  from  Edwards  (p.  100),  is  in  the 
assumption  that,  whatever  is  directed  and  controlled  in 
its  movement  or  action  is  not  free  •  and,  as  everything 
that  moves  or  acts,  must  be  directed  and  controlled  in 
its  movement  or  action,  either  by  itself,  or  by  some 
thing  else,  it  follows,  from  this  assumption,  that  noth 
ing  can  be  free.  If  it  directs  and  controls  itself,  it  is 
still  directed  and  controlled ;  and  hence,  under  this 
assumption,  not  free ;  and  if  directed  and  controlled 
by  something  else,  it  is  not  free  in  the  accepted  notion 
of  freedom.  If  it  be  granted  that  that  which  directs 
and  controls  its  own  movement  or  action  is  free,  the 
argument  as  against  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  the  act 
of  willing  wholly  fails.  The  argument  in  section  thir- 


318  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE 

teeiith  is,  then,  obviously  and  wholly  fallacious  ;  and, 
also,  as  before  intimated,  that  quoted  from  page  100. 
At  most,  they  only  tend  to  prove  that  the  will,  consid 
ered  as  a  distinct  entity,  is  not  free ;  and  not  that  the 
active  agent,  the  mind  willing,  is  not  free  ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  both  of  those  arguments  go  to  show,  or  admit 
that  mind,  in  willing,  controls  its  own  act  of  will, 
which,  as  before  shown,  is  but  another  expression  for 
the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing.  The  position  here, 
as  elsewhere,  really  taken  by  Edwards,  or  involved  in 
his  arguments  is,  that  every  event  is  an  effect  of  some 
cause  on  which  it  is  dependent  and  by  which  it  is  con 
trolled,  and,  therefore,  a  necessary  effect ;  that  volition 
is  an  effect  of  which  the  action  of  the  mind,  in  willing, 
is  the  cause ;  but,  instead  of  inferring  that  the  effect, 
the  volition,  is  necessary,  he  infers  that  the  cause,  the 
action  of  the  mind  in  willing,  is  necessary,  which  is 
wholly  illogical.  He  generally  speaks  of  the  freedom 
of  the  will,  and  not  of  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  will 
ing,  though  he  asserts  that  by  the  former  he  means 
the  latter,  and  occasionally  expresses  it,  or  its  equiva 
lent,  as,  "  The  question  is  wherein  consists  the  mind's 
liberty  in  any  particular  act  of  volition  ?  "  (p.  95).  The 
utter  futility  of  all  attempts  to  reach  any  new  truth  by 
reasoning  on  the  statement  we  have  quoted  from  page 
100,  may  be  shown  by  substituting  in  it  the  word 
"  choice,"  wherever  its  admitted  equivalents  are  used, 
which  would  make  the  latter  half  of  it  read  thus : 
"  Because,  as  was  observed  before,  nothing  is  more 
evident  than  that  when  men  act  as  they  choose,  and  do 
what  they  choose,  then  they  do  what  they  choose  ;  and 
to  say  otherwise  would  be  as  much  as  to  affirm  that 
men  do  not  choose  what  appears  to  suit  them  best,  or 


CONTINGENCY.  319 

what  they  choose,  or  that  they  do  not  choose  what  they 
choose ; "  or  thus,wthe  argument  of  Edwards,  as  there 
stated  is,  "  that  the  acts  of  the  will  are  none  of  them 
contingent,"  &c.,  "  because  every  act  of  the  will  is  some 
way  connected  with  the  understanding,"  &c.,  and  "  the 
soul  always  wills  or  chooses  that  which,  in  the  present 
view  of  the  mind,  *  *  *  appears  most  agreeable." 
But,  as  he  says,  "  an  appearing  most  agreeable  and  the 
mind's  preferring  or  choosing,  seem  hardly  to  be  prop 
erly  and  perfectly  distinct,"  and  elsewhere  identifies 
will  and  choice  with  what  is  most  agreeable  or  most 
pleasing,  the  above  argument  merely  amounts  to  saying 
that  acts  of  will  are  none  of  them  contingent,  because 
the  mind  wills  what  it  wills. 

The  question  which  Edwards  asks  as  to  a  volition 
having  "  an  infallible  connection  with  anything  fore 
going  "  (p.  96),  has  already  been  considered.  The  argu 
ments  I  have  adduced  go  to  prove  that,  even  admitting 
the  hypothesis  that  the. mind  has  other  faculties  which 
influence  the  will  and  yet  are  independent  of  it,  which 
Edwards  seems  to  adopt,  his  reasoning  does  not  estab 
lish  necessity ;  for  in  this  case  the  mind  still  controls 
its  own  action.  If,  however,  the  action  of  those  other 
faculties  requires  an  act  of  will,  then  the  act  of  will 
which  they  influence,  is  really  influenced  by  the  mind's 
previous  act  of  will ;  and  the  same,  if  such  faculties 
are,  as  I  have  supposed,  only  varied  modes  of  effort  or 
will ;  or  efforts  or  acts  of  will  for  varied  objects.  In 
either  case  this  would  be  influencing  or  determining 
the  final 'act  of  will  by  a  preliminary  act  of  will,  an<: 
if  this  were  the  end  of  it,  the  final  act  of  will  would  be 
determined  by  a  previous  act  of  will,  and  the  active 
agent,  whether  it  be  the  mind,  or  the  will  itself,  thus 


320  BEVIEW   OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL,* 

determining  its  own  action,  is  free ;  but  in  all  such 
cases,  we  must  trace  the  series  of  efforts  back  to  an 
exciting  want  and  a  perception  of  some  mode  of  trying 
to.  gratify  it,  which  are  independent  of  the  will.  If  by 
such  other  faculties  Edwards  means  the  capacity  for 
simple  perception,  then  it  is  the  mind  directing  itself, 
not  by  means  of  such  capacity  itself,  but  by  means  of 
the  knowledge  which  it  acquires  through  this  capacity, 
which  brings  the  whole  matter  to  our  position,  that  the 
mind  directs  its  efforts  to  the  gratification  of  its  want 
by  means  of  its  knowledge.  The  argument  of  Edwards 
seems  to '  assert  that  any  freedom  in  willing  is  impos 
sible  ;  but  it  might,  with  more  reason,  be  asserted  that 
all  cause  is  free  and  cannot  even  be  conceived  of  as 
otherwise  than  free.  If  I  direct  and  control  the  move 
ment  of  a  ball,  and,  while  so  directed  and  controlled,  it 
impinges  against  and  affects  another  body,  I,  and  not 
the  ball,  am  the  cause  of  that  effect.  If  I  throw  the 
ball,  and,  after  I  have  withdrawn  all  effort  from  it,  it 
continues  in  motion  by  a  principle  inherent  in  matter 
itself,  and  not  by  the  will,  or  effort  of  any  other  being, 
then,  that  which  makes  it  cause  is  its  own  motion, 
which  is  not  restrained,  constrained,  or  in  any  wise 
interfered  with,  till  it  comes  to  produce  an  effect,  by 
coming  in  collision  with  some  other  body,  or  in  conflict 
with  some  other  force  ;  and  then  comes  the  trial,  as  to 
what,  as  a  consequence  of  its  own  free  movement,  it 
has  power  to  accomplish.  If  matter  is  ever  cause,  the 
motion,  the  activity,  which  constitutes  its  only  con 
ceivable  causative  power,  must  be  uncontrolled  ;  so  the 
effort,  through  which  the  mind  has  causative  power, 
must  also  be  free  from  external  control,  even  though 
the  effect  be  frustrated  by  some  other  power  ;  and,  the 


CONTINGENCY.  321 

moment  matter  is  controlled  in  its  movement,  or  mind 
in  its  effort,  by  some  other  power,  it  ceases  to  be  cause, 
and  becomes  only  an  instrument,  used  by  the  power 
which  controls  it,  which  is  then  the  real  cause.  In 
either  case,  too,  it  is  only  when  it  comes  to  tfye  effect, 
that  the  causative  agent  can  be  frustrated  or  controlled 
in  its  action  for  want  of  sufficient  force  or  power  ;  but 
this  cannot  affect  its  previous  condition  as  cause — cannot 
change  its  previous  freedom  of  motion  or  of  effort. 
There  is,  however,  this  essential  difference  between  the 
two  cases  ;  that,  although  the  movement  of  the  matter 
in  motion,  till  it  comes  to  produce  its  effect,  is  free  in 
the  sense  that  it  is  not  impeded  or  controlled  by  other 
external  force  at  the  instant,  its  freedom  stops  here,  and 
it  has  no  power,  no  liberty,  to  control  itself.  It  cannot 
alter  any  direction  given  to  it ;  and,  if  such  direction 
has  no  extraneous  cause,  it  must  have  been  from  eter 
nity,  and  every  successive  motion  have  been  controlled 
by  past  movements  ;  there  never  could  have  been  any 
initial  force  or  movement  which  was  self-controlled  and 
directed,  for  matter  never  could. begin  to  move  itself. 
The  term  liberty,  in  the  sense  in  which  we  apply  it  to 
intelligent  cause,  seems  inapplicable  to  matter ;  for  all 
its  freedom  consists  in  not  being  impeded  in  doing  that 
which  some  other  force  has  compelled  it  to  do.  It  has 
no  self-control.  A  body  now  moving  is,  therefore, 
rather  an  instrument,  by  which  some  prior  cause  ex 
tends  its  effects  in  time,  than  a  cause  itself;  or,  more 
properly,  a  link  in  a  chain  of  instrumentalities,  which 
cannot  be  traced  to  any  beginning,  or  real  cause  in 
matter,  for  it  never  could  have  directed  or  moved  itself. 
On  the  other  hand,  mind,  perceiving  the  future  varies 

14* 


322      BEVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

its  efforts  from  consideration  of  the  future  effects,  and 
thus  escaping  the  control  of  the  past,  acts  as  final 
cause,  making  such  efforts  as  it  perceives  in  ad 
vance  to  be  requisite  to  the  future  effect  it  seeks  to 
produce. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONNECTION  OF  THE  WILL  WITH  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter  I  have  already  noticed 
some  of  Edwards's  remarks  upon  the  connection  of  the 
will  with  the  understanding,  and  will  now  observe  that, 
if  will  is  choice,  it  cannot  always,  as  Edwards  asserts, 
"  follow  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding,"  which 
itself  may  be  a  choice ;  and;  of  course,  by  his  definition, 
in  such  case  the  last  dictate  would  itself  be  the  willing. 
On  this  point  I  would  further  remark,  that  this  last  dic 
tate  is  often  neither  a  choice,  nor  an  act  of  will,  nor  fol 
lowed  by  an  act  of  will.  If  we  investigate  abstract 
truth,  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding  is  that  the 
result  is  so,  or  so ;  or,  perhaps,  that  it  is  yet  undeter 
mined  ;  and,  in  either  case,  no  volition  follows.  Sup 
pose,  for  instance,  we  want  to  ascertain  the  quantity  in 
3  x  7,  and,  having  applied  the  proper  modes,  rest  in  the 
conclusion  that  it  is  21.  "We  have,  in  this  result,  a  last 
dictate  of  the  understanding,  but  no  volition,  or  act  of 
will  follows  :  the  matter  is  finished,  there  is  no  further 
want  and  no  further  effort ;  for  the  want  was  merely  to 
obtain,  and  is  fully  gratified-  by  obtaining,  this  "  last 
dictate  of  the  understanding."  In  regard  to  our  actions, 
however,  the  object  of  examination  is  always  to  deter 
mine  either  between  different  modes  of  acting,  or  be- 


324       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

tween  acting  and  not  acting ;  and,  in  either  case,  the 
result,  or  last  dictate  of  the  understanding,  is  always  a 
choice  or  preference  as  to  that  particular  action,  or  as 
to  action  or  non-action ;  and  hence,  as  the  choice  or 
preference  cannot  follow  itself,  it  is  evident  that,  if  this 
choice  is  the  act  of  will  or  volition,  it  never  follows  the 
Jast  dictate  of  the  understanding.  But  even  admitting 
that  Edwards  means  that  the  will — volition — which 
always  follows  the  last  dictate,  is  something  distinct 
from  that  last  dictate  or  choice  of  the  understanding, 
still,  as  the  understanding,  in  his  system,  embraces  cer 
tain  faculties  which  pertain  to  mind,  it  merely  follows 
that  the  mind  exerts  some  of  its  other  faculties  in  order 
to  an  exercise  of  its  will,  or  to  decide  what  the  exercise 
of  the  will  shall  be.  But  this  involves  the  absurdity 
of  supposing  that,  before  an  act  of  will  there  miast 
always  be  an  act  of  will ;  for  this  preliminary  exercise 
of  the  other  faculties  must  be  by  an  act  of  will ;  and 
even  if  this  were  possible,  it  would  argue  nothing 
against  either  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing,  or  its 
own,  or  even  the  will's  self-determining  power,  but 
quite  the  contrary.  In  reply  to  Dr.  Whitby,  Edwards 
thus  applies  the  doctor's  admission  that  the  will  follows 
the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding  :  "  For  if  the  de 
termination  of  the  will,  evermore,  in  this  manner,  fol 
lows  the  light,  conviction,  and  view  of  the  understand 
ing,  concerning  the  greatest  good  and  evil,  and  this  be 
that  alone  which  moves  the  will,  and  it  be  a  contradic 
tion  to  suppose  otherwise  ;  then  it  is  necessarily  so,  the 
will  necessarily  follows  this  light,  or  view  of  the  under 
standing  ;  and  not  only  in  some  of  its  acts,  but  in  every 
act  of  choosing  and  refusing.  So  that  the  will  does  not 
determine  itself  in  any  one  of  its  own  acts,  but  all  its 


CONNECTION  OF  THE  WILL  WITH  THE  UNDEKSTANDING.      325 

acts,  every  act  of  choice  and-  refusal  depends  on  and  is 
necessarily  connected  with,  some  antecedent  cause, 
which  cause  is  not  the  will  itself,  nor  any  act  of  its  own, 
nor  anything  pertaining  to  that  faculty  ;  but  something 
belonging  to  another  faculty,  whose  acts  go  before  the 
will  in  all  its  acts,  and  govern  and  determine  them 
every  one  "  (p.  104).  Here  it  is  evident  that  Edwards 
makes  the  will  a  distinct  entity,  the  freedom  of  which, 
and  not  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  using  or  exercising 
it,  is  the  matter  in  question ;  and  that  he  also  treats 
the  understanding  as  if  it  were  also  an  entity  distinct 
from  mind ;  and,  as  a  distinct  power,  controlling  the 
distinct  entity  of  will ;  arguing  that  the  will  is  not  free, 
because  it  is  controlled  by  the  understanding ;  which  is 
more  erroneous  than  to  assert  that  it  is  not  free  because 
of  its  dependence  on  the  action  of  the  mind  through  its 
other  faculties  ;  and  this  attempt  to  prove,  not  the  mind 
in  willing,  but  the  will,  as  distinct  from  mind,  neces 
sitated,  and  thus  necessitated  because  of  its  subjection 
to  the  mind's  control,  pervades  the  section.  Upon  such 
reasoning  I  have  already  sufficiently  commented,  and 
shown  that  it  really  confirms,  or  assumes,  the  freedom 
of  the  mind  in  willing. 

In  regard  to  what  is  said  by  Edwards  (Part  II.,  Sec. 
9)  of  the  necessity  of  an  act  of  will  to  attention  ~by  the 
mind,  I  would  remark  that  it  is  not  an  act  of  will  by 
which,  when  the  eyes  are  open,  we  see  the  sun  and 
other  external  objects  and  their  relations.  The  external 
objects  cannot  compel,  or  cause  an  act  of  will,  prodifbing 
that  attention  by  which  these  objects  are  themselves 
first  recognized ;  for  they  could  produce  no  effect  on 
the  mind  to  make  it  will,  or  do  anything  whatever 
until  it  recognized  them.  So  also  it  may  not  be  by  an 


326       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

act  of  will  that  the  mind,  when  aroused  and  made 
sensible  by  want,  perceives  its  knowledge,  now  present 
to  it,  and  the  relations'  of  that  knowledge,  intuitive  or 
acquired,  to  its  want,  also  present  with  its  knowledge, 
and  all  in  the  mind's  view.  I  do  not,  however,  deem 
it  important  to  the  views  I  have  put  forth,  whether  the 
mind,  when  aroused  from  a  state  of  inactivity  by  a 
want,  begins  by  an  effort  to  get  the  requisite  knowl 
edge  to  gratify  the  want,  or  by  a  Simple  perception  of 
that  knowledge;  it  may  begin  in  either  mode,  and 
sometimes  in  one  and  sometimes  in  the  other.  In  the 
case  of  instinctive  action,  it  is  probably  always  a  mere 
perception  of  its  intuitive  knowledge,  and  of  the  rela 
tions  of  that  knowledge  to  its  want,  naturally  asso 
ciated  ;  and,  in  the  case  of  habit,  similar  perceptions  of 
its  knowledge,  artificially  associated  with  its  want  by 
repetition.  In  other  cases,  the  mind  may  have  to  make 
an  effort  to  find  in  its  memory,  or  even  newly  and  for 
the  first  time  to  "obtain,  the  knowledge  essential  to  the 
gratification  of  its  want.  Its  intelligence  enables  it  to 
conform  its  action,  in  this  respect,  to  the  existing  cir 
cumstances  ;  and,  by  effort,  to  put  that  portion  of  its 
body  or  that  faculty  of  its  mind  in  action,  which,  in . 
view  of  existing  circumstances,  it  perceives  to  be  best 
for  accomplishing  its  object.  This  whole  matter  of  the 
will's  following  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding 
amounts  then  merely  to  this,  that  often,  when  the  mind 
wants  to  produce  any  change,  it  makes  preliminary 
effort  to  obtain  knowledge  as  to  the  mode  of  producing 
such  change,  or  obtains  it  by  simple  perception,  and 
then  determines  its  action  by  means  of  such  knowledge, 
which,  as  we  have  already  shown,  is  acting  freely. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MOTIVE. 

argument  of  Edwards,  and,  perhaps,  that  which 
he  most  relies  upon,  may  be  thus  stated :  There  is  no 
event  without  a  cause  ;  the  determination  of -an  act  of 
will  is  an  event,  and  must  have  a  cause  ;  this  cause  must 
be  motive,  for  without  motive  the  mind  would  have  no 
inclination  or  preference  toward  anything;  and,  as 
the  cause  must  of  necessity  produce  one  certain  effect 
and  no  other,  the  act  of  the  will  is,  of  necessity,  deter 
mined  by  the  motive  to  be  one  particular  volition,  and 
can  be  no  other.  He  not  only  makes  motive  determine 
the  will,  but  hi  makes  it  the  cause  of  the  act  of  will 
itself.  We  give  his  own  words  from  the  commence 
ment  of  section  tenth  :  "  That  every  act  of  the  will  has 
some  cause,  and  consequently  (by  what  has  been  already 
proved)  has  a  necessary  connection  with  its  cause,  and 
so  is  necessary  by  a  necessity  of  connection  and  conse 
quence,  is  evident  by  this,  that  every  act  of  the  will 
whatsoever  is  excited  by  some  motive  ;  which  is  mani 
fest,  because,  if  the  will,  or  mind,  in  willing  and  choos 
ing  after  the  manner  that  it  does-,  is  excited  so  to  do  by 
no  motive,  or  inducement,  then  it  has  no  end,  which  it 
proposes  to  itself,  or  pursues  in  so  doing ;  it  aims  at 
nothing  and  seeks  nothing.  And  if  it  seek^nothing, 


328       BEVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

then  it  does  not  go  after  anything,  or  exert  any  inclina 
tion  or  preference  toward  anything ;  which  brings  the 
matter  to  a  contradiction  ;  because  for  the  mind  to  will 
something,  and  for  it  to  go  afte^something  by  an  act 
of  preference  and  inclination,  are  the  same  thing. 

"  But  if  every  act  of  the  will  is  excited  by  a  motive, 
then  that  motive  is  the  cause  of  the  act  of  the  will. 
If  the  acts  of  the  will  are  excited  by  motives,  then  mo 
tives  are  the  causes  of  their  being  excited  ;  or,  which  is 
the  same  thing,  the  cause  of  their  being  put  forth  into 
act  and  existence.  And  if  so,  the  existence  of  the  acts 
of  the  will  is  properly  the  effect  of  their  motives.  Mo 
tives  do  nothing  as  motives,  or  inducements,  but  by 
their  influence  ;  and  so  much  as  is  done  by  their  influ 
ence  is  the  effect  of  them.  For  that  is  the  notion  of 
an  effect,  something  that  is  brought  to  pass  by  the  influ 
ence  of  another  thing. 

"  And  if  volitions  are  properly  the  effects  of  their 
motives,  then  they  are  necessarily  connected  with  their 
motives.  Every  effect  and  event  being,  as  proved  be 
fore,  necessarily  connected  with  that  which  is  the  proper 
ground  and  reason  of  its  existence.  Thus  it  is  manifest 
that  volition  is  necessary,  and  is  not  from  any  self- 
determining  power  in  the  will." 

In  passing,  I  would  remark  upon  this  statement,  that 
when  in  it  Edwards  says,  "  for  the  mind  to  will  some 
thing,  and  for  it  to  go  after  something  by  an  act  of 
preference  and  inclination,  are  the  same  thing,"  he,  in 
fact,  materially  varies  his  definition  of  will,  under  which 
he  could  only  say,  "  for  the  mind  to  will  something, 
and  to  prefer  something,  are  the  same  thing ;  "  and 
the  addition  makes  the  act  of  choosing  or  preferring, 
include  ^ie  going  after  the  thing  chosen  or  preferred, 


MOTIVE.  329 

and  is  one  of  many  instances  of  the  difficulty  to  which 
he  is  reduced,  from  not  recognizing,  by  a  distinct  term, 
that  action  of  the  mind,  which  sometimes  follows  its 
choice,  and  which  I  have  called  effort /  and  which  he 
here  virtually  admits  as  coming  between  the  choice  and 
the  effect,  and  characterizes  as  "  the  going  after  the  thing 
chosen,"  and  by  the  remarkable  expression,  "  exert 
ing  a  preference."  In  this  case,  the  proof  "  that  every 
act  of  the  will  has  some  cause,"  or  that  every  act  of  the 
will,  whatsoever,  is  excited  by  some  motive,  rests  en 
tirely  on  this  new  assumption,  but  for  the  interpolating 
of  which,  the  reasoning  would  be  utterly  futile.  I  do 
not,  however,  mean  to  question  these  propositions  when 
the  term  motive  is  properly  applied,  but  will  "here  re 
mark  that  his  statement  does  not  warrant  all  the  in 
ference  he  draws.  If,  as  he  says,  "every  act  of  the 
will  is  excited  by  motive,"  which  "  is  the  cause  of  its 
being  put  forth  into  act  and  existence,"  and  then  further 
admitting  that  motive  is  some  power,  or  cause  not  of 
the  mind,  it  would  still  only  follow  that  some  act  of 
will  is  put  forth,  and  not  that  what  that  act  of  will 
shall  be  is  thus  determined  ;  "  not  that  it  is  in  such  a 
direction  rather  than  another."  Again,  if  the  act  of 
will  is  "  put  forth,"  there  must  be  some  active  agent  to 
put  it  forth.  Edwards  virtually  assumes  that  the  mo 
tive  is  itself  the  active  agent  directly  producing  acts  of 
will ;  and  having  thus  put  it  in  the  place  of  the  mind, 
arrives  at  conclusions,  which  really  apply  to  mind,  and 
prove  that  it  is  the  cause  of  its  own  volitions  and,  of 
course,  is  free.  If  the  motives,  whatever  they  are,  do 
not  directly  produce  or  control  the  acts  of  will,  or  do 
not  directly  act  with  irresistible  force  upon  the  wiU  as  a 
distinct  entity,  but  are  only  inducements  to  the  mind 


330  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

to  "  put  forth  "  some  volition,  then  it  may  still  be  for 
the  mind  to  determine  whether  to  yield  to  those  induce 
ments,  or  to  which  of  numerous  inducements  it  will 
yield,  or  in  what  way  it  will  "  go  after  something,"  or 
whether  it  will  go  after  it  at  all,  which  would  still  be 
to  determine  its  own  action ;  and  by  its  intelligence  con 
form  that  action  to  the  existing  circumstances,  which 
motive,  as  a  distinct  entity,  or  any  other  blind  cause 
could  not  do.  -  In  noticing  some  portions  of  this  argu 
ment,  I  may  attempt  to  show  that  even  upon  Edwards's 
own  definition,  that  "  volition  is  choice,"  it  is  fallacious. 
As  to  what  determines  the  will,  he  says,  "  It  is  that 
motive,  which  as  it  stands  in  the  view  of  the  mind  is 
the  strongest,  that •  determines  the  will"  (p.  7.)  He 
^also  says,  "  By  motive,  I  mean  the  whole  of  that  which 
moves,  excites,  or  invites  the  mind  to  volition,  whether 
that  be  one  thing  singly,  or  many  things  conjunctly." 
(p.  7.)  He  previously  says,  "  The  will  is  said  to  be  de 
termined,  when,  in  consequence  of  some  action,  or  in 
fluence,  its  choice  is  directed  to  and  fixed  upon  a  par 
ticular  object.  As,  when  we  speak  of  the  determination 
of  motion,  wre  mean  causing  the  motion  of  the  body  to 
be  such  a  way,  or  in  such  a  direction  rather  than  an 
other."  (p.  6.)  The  word  "  action  "  here  seems  to  be 
superfluous  ;  for,  if  the  action  does  not  influence  the  will 
it  has  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  and  if  it  does,  it  is  an  in 
fluence.  The  above  statements  then  assert  that  the 
motive  which  moves,  excites,  or  invites  the  mind  to 
volition,  determines  the  will,  and  identify  motive  and 
influence.  The  phrase,  "  the  whole  of  that  which 
moves,  excites,  or  invites"  must  include  everything 
past,  present,  or  future,  which  has  any  possible  influ 
ence  on  the  mind  in  willing  There  is  an  apparent  limi- 


MOTIVE.  331 

tation  in  the  statement  that,  it  must  "  stand  in  the  view 
of  the  mind ;  "  but  as  Edwards  says,  "  Nothing  can  in 
duce,  or  invite  the  mind  to  will,  or  act  anything,  any 
further  than  it  is  perceived,"  this  apparent  limitation 
only  excludes  what  does  not  influence,  and  still  leaves 
the  phrase  to  include  all  that  does  influence  the  mind 
in  willing. 

This  definition  of  motive  then  amounts  simply  to 
this  :  that  whatever  influences  the  mind  in  willing  is  a 
motive  ;  and  what  does  not  influence  it  is  not  a  motive. 
There  is,  also,  the  condition  that  it  must  be  the  "  strong 
est  motive,"  and  this,  of  course,  must  mean  that  mo 
tive,  which  has  the  most  influence  on  the  mind  in  will 
ing.  The  whole  of  the  three  statements,  then,  as 
quoted,  and  especially  if  taken  in  connection  with  his 
idea  that  influence  is  that  which  produces  an  effect, 
amounts  to  this,  that  the  mind,  in  willing,  is  influenced 
by  that  which  most  influences  it  to  will,  or  that  .the 
mind,  in  'being  moved  to  will — -we  must  use  this  form 
of  expression  if  it  does  not  move  itself — is  moved  by 
that  which  moves  it,  or  is  moved  in  the  direction  in 
which  it  is  moved  by  that  which  moves  it  in  that  direc 
tion  ;  or  that  the  mind  in  willing,  "  the  will,"  is  deter 
mined  by  that  which  determines  it.  The  whole  state 
ment  amounts  to  nothing,  ending  where  it  began.  It  is 
as  impossible,  logically,  to  deduce  any  new  truth  from 
such  statements  and  definitions  as  from  the  expression 
"  whatever  is,  is."  In  this  instance  we  learn  from  them, 
in  the  first  place,  that  the  will  is  determined  by  that 
which  influences  it ;  next,  that  what  so  influences  it  is  a 
certain  motive  ;  and  when  we  inquire  what  a  motive  is, 
we  are  told  that  it  is  anything  and  everything  which 
influences  the  will.  It  seems  to  be  an  unsuccessful  at- 


332       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

tempt  to  apply  the  mathematical  mode,  and  make  the 
definition  give  existence  to  the  thing  defined,  instead 
of  describing  something  which  already  exists.  But3/in 
this  case,  we  have  to  deal  with  realities  and  not  with 
mere  hypothesis.  •  The  argument,  as  Edwards  states  it, 
really  fixes  nothing, •* determines  nothing;  it  confirms 
nothing,  it  opposes  nothing.  If,  as  some  of  his  oppo 
nents  assert,  the  will  determines  the  will,  then  that 
strongest  motive,  which  moves  the  mind  to  will,  is  the 
will  itself;  and,  under  his  definition,  the  only  way  in 
which  it  can  be  shown  that  the  will  itself  is  not  such 
a  motive,  or  that  it  does  not  conform  to  his  definition 
of  it,  is  to  show  that  the  will  itself  does  not  determine 
the  will ;  and,  having  done  this,  there  is  no  need  of  trav 
elling  backward  to  apply  the  rule  that  the  will  is  de 
termined  by  the  strongest  motive,  to  prove  that  the  will 
does  not  determine  itself;  for  that  is  then  already 
proved,  and  nothing  is  gained  in  the  argument  by  the 
introduction  of  the  motive. 

So,  also,  if  it  be  asserted  that  the  mind,  by  means  of 
its  knowledge,  or  by  any  other  means,  determines  its 
acts  of  will,  this  is  to  assert  that  the  mind,  by  such 
means,  becomes  such  a  motive  as  Edwards  defines  ;  and 
this  assertion,  if  sustained,  would  make  his  own  posi 
tions  proof  of  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing  ;  for 
if  the  mind  determined  its  own  acts  of  will,  it  is  not  im 
portant  to  the  question  of  its  freedom  by  what  means  it 
does  it ;  and  the  assertion  would  only  be  proved  or  dis 
proved  as  in  the  former  case,  by  first  proceeding  with 
out  any  reference  to  the  general  idea  or  definition  of 
motive.*  And,  if  it  were  asserted  that  anything  else 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLIII. 


MOTIVE.  333 

determined  the  will,  the  introduction  of  motive,  as  thns 
defined,  would  really  avail  nothing  to  prove  or  dis 
prove  it ;  for,  in  every  case,  under  Edwards's  definitions, 
the  only  way  to  prove  that  this  anything  is,  or  is  not 
the  strongest  motive,  is  first  to  ascertain  whether  it 
does,  or  does  not  determine  the  will.  Whether,  then, 
this  notion  of  motive  sustains  freedom  or  necessity, 
depends  on  the  character  of  the  motive ;  which  does 
not  appear  in  the  definition.  The  difficulty  is  a  radical 
one,  and  arises  from  defining  "  strongest  motive  "  not 
by  what  it  is,  or  must  he,  but  by  something  that  it  may, 
or  must  do,  doing  which  it  is  the  strongest  motive,  but 
otherwise  it  is  not  the  strongest  motive.  Let  one  take 
what  position  he  may  as  to  what  determines  the  will, 
he  need  not  deny  that  it  is  the  "  strongest  motive  "  that 
determines  it,  i.  e.  as  Edwards  defines  "  strongest  mo 
tive  ;  "  for,  to  assert  that  anything  whatever  determines 
the  will,  is  to  assert  that  this  anything  exactly  corre 
sponds  to  Edwards's  definition  of"  strongest  motive,"  for 
there  must  then  be  asserted  of  it  the  only  distinguish 
ing  characteristic,  which  he  attributed  to  trie  "  strongest 
motive,"  viz. :  that  of  determining  the  will.  If  freedom 
determines  the  will,  then  freedom  is  the  strongest  mo 
tive  ;  if  necessity  determines  the  will,  then  necessity  is 
the  strongest  motive  ;  and  we  have  only  got  a  new  name 
ready  for  whatever  is  proved,  or  proves  itself  to  be  en 
titled  to  it.  As  a  philosophical  discovery  of  what  deter 
mines  the  will,  it  is  much  as  if  a  man  should  say,  "  I 
have  invented  a  machine  by  which  men  can  fly.  My 
invention  consists  in  such  a  combination  and  applica 
tion  of  mechanical  motors,  as  will  enable  men  to  fly  !  " 
Nor  would  it  much  enhance  its  merit,  if  he  should  add, 
"  The  mechanism  of  this,  my  invention,  must  he  visible, 


334       EEVIEW  OF  EDWAUDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

or  1)6  Jcnown  to  the  man  who  is  to  fly ;  and,  of  the  different 
kinds  of  motors,  that  which  is  the  strongest,  or  which 
appears  to  him  the  strongest,  or  which  by  its  effects 
proves  itself  the  strongest,  must  be  used."  An  inven 
tor  could  hardly  hope  to  obtain  a  patent  upon  the 
merits  of  such  a  specification.  On  reading  it,  a  man 
would  be  very  apt  to  think  that  this  gave  him  very  little 
aid  in  designing  and  constructing  a  flying  machine,  but 
really  left  it  all  for  him  to  find  out  for  himself.  The 
same  of  the  motive,  one  of  the  difficulties  in  the  specifi 
cation  of  which,  as  already  intimated,  is,  that  it  does  not 
really  define  what  the  motive  is.  Edwards  says,  "  It 
must  be  something  that  is  extant  in  the  view  or  appre 
hension  of  the  understanding ,  or  perceiving  faculty  " 
(p.  T).  It  is  obvious  that,  to  conform  to  this  definition, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  admit  the  deduction  of  neces 
sity,  the  motive  must  be  something,  which  not  only  is 
not  controlled  by  the  mind,  but  which  in  some  way  has 
power  to  control  it.  But  why,  then,  is  it  essential  that 
it  should  be  "in  the  view  of  the  mind,"  and  why,  if  not 
in  view  of  the  mind,  is  it  wholly  without  influence? 
If  the  flying  machine  just  alluded  to,  is  to  be  used  by 
some  agent  or  power  extrinsic  to  the  man  who  flies,  and 
he  is  to  be  taken  up  by  it,  and  carried  through  the  air 
without  any  agency  of  his  own,  there  can  be  no  possible 
necessity  that  he  should  see  or  feel  the  machine  when 
he  is  being  moved  by  it.  The  effect  would  be  accom 
plished  just  as  well  if  his  eyes  were  closed,  or  he  asleep 
and  wholly  unconscious  of  its  action,  And,  if  this  mo 
tive  is  something,  which  is  itself  to  move  the  mind  to 
will  and  not  something  which  the  mind  is  to  use  to 
move,  or  direct  its  will,  there  can  be  no  necessity  that 
it  should  "  be  in  the  view  of  the  mind  ;  "  and  such  ne- 


MOTIVE.  335 

cessity  indicates  that  the  mind  must  use  the  motive  to 
determine  its  will,  and  not  be  used  or  determined  by 
it ;  that  the  power  is  in  the  mind,  or  active  agent,  and 
not  in  the  motive,  which  is  only  something  which  that 
agent  perceives  or  knows. 

Again,  this  motive  must  also  be  one  particular  mo 
tive.  The  motives  may  be  numerous,  but  only  one, 
simple  or  complex,  i.  e.,  made  up  of  "  one  thing  singly, 
or  many  things  conjunctly,"  determines  the  will.  Now, 
this  prevailing  motive  is  not  that  which  from  anything 
in  itself  is  the  strongest,  but  that  which  in  the  *view  of 
the  mind  is  the  strongest.  As  the  motive  cannot  itself 
determine  that  it  is  the  "  strongest  motive,"  and,  more 
especially,  that  in  the  view  of  the  mind.,  it  is  the  strong 
est,  this  must  mean  that  the  motive,  which  the  mind 
perceives  or  judges  to  be  the  strongest,  determines  the 
will.  But,  if  the  mind,  by  the  exercise  of  its  faculty  of 
judging,  or  by  its  capacity  to  perceive,  acquires  that 
knowledge  by  which  itself  determines  the  strongest 
motive,  and  the  strongest  motive  determines  the  will, 
then  the  mind,  in  fact,  determines  the  will ;  for  to  de 
termine"  the  strongest  motive  is  to  determine  which 
motive  shall  prevail ;  and,  without  such  exercise  of 
judgment,  or  such  application  of  our  knowledge,  the 
motive  would  have  no  power  and  would  not  prevail. 
But  the  'mind  determining  itself  in  willing,  by  means 
of  its  intelligence,  or  by  the  exercise  of  any  of  its  facul 
ties,  is  only  another  expression  for  the  freedom  of  the 
mind  in  willing.  It  is  very  certain  that  the  motive  can 
not  itself  determine  that  itself  is  the  strongest  motive, 
unless  it  be  an  intelligent  being  with  faculties  for  per 
ceiving,  comparing,  and  judging,  and  if,  in  that  case,  it 
is  the  same  being  whose  will  is  to  be  controlled,  then 


REVIEW   OF  EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

that  being,  as  its  own  motive,  directly  controls  its  own 
will,  and  hence  wills  freely.  It  cannot  be  another  in 
telligent  being  that  determines  which  is  the  strongest 
motive,  for  then,  it  is  not  "  in  the  mind's  view  "  of  the 
one  to  be  influenced,  and  on  him  has  no  influence.  If 
this  other  being  has  determined  which  is  the  strongest 
motive,  it  must  still  be  so  presented  to  the  mind  of  the 
one  to  be  influenced  by  it,  that  he  shall  also  perceive  and 
decide  or  judge  that  it  is  the  strongest,  or  it  can  have 
no  influence  in  determining  his  will.  To  compare  and 
determine  which  is  the  strongest  of  several  motives  fre 
quently  requires  a  preliminary  effort,  or  act  of  will,  and 
the  "  strongest  motive  "  is  not  effective  till  this  is  done, 
and  we  may  then  have  a  series  interminable  unless  ter 
minated  by  a  simple  mental  perception  requiring  no 
preliminary  effort.  If  it  be  said  that  one  having  ascer 
tained  which  is  the  strongest  motive,  may  thereby 
directly  control  the  will  of  another,  who  has  not  ascer 
tained  it,  we  reply  that  the  controlled  will,  though  in 
another,  is  really  then  the  will  of  the  controlling  being, 
and  the  controlled  has  no  will  in  the  matter  to  be  con 
trolled.  If  the  one  being  indirectly  influences  the  other, 
by  so  changing  the  circumstances  that  the  latter  will 
perceive  a  certain  motive  to  be  the  strongest,  then  this 
other  is  still  influenced  by  his  own  perceptions,  his  own 
knowledge,  which,  as  before  shown,  does  not  conflict 
with  his  freedom  in  willing.  Or,  if  the  one,  in  any  way, 
changes  the  mind's  view  of  the  other,  with  or  without 
changing  the  circumstances  or  object  viewed,  then  the 
mind  influenced  is  still  governed  by  its  own  views,  its 
own  perceptions,  own  knowledge,  otherwise  the  change 
in  its  views  would  not  influence  it  in  willing ;  so  that, 
if  such  a  motive  as  Edwards  suggests  be  really  found, 


v 

• 

MOTIVE.  337 


it  will  not  militate  against  the  position  that,  if  the  mind 
wills,  it  must  will  freely. 

When  Edwards  says,  "An  act  of  the  will  is  the 
same  as  an  act  of  choosing  or  choice"  (p.  1),  and  that 
"  the  will  is  always  determined  by  the  strongest  mo-- 
tive  "  (p.  8),  which  again  is  that  "  which,  as  it  stands 
in  the  mind's  view,  suits  it  best  and  pleases  it  most " 
(p.  9),  he,  in  effect,  says,  that  the  choice  is  determined 
by  a  choice,  if  not  by  the  same  choice,  which  is  itself 
determined ;  for  that  "  which  suits  the  mind  best  and 
pleases  it  most"  must,  as  he  asserts,  be  that  which  the 
mind  prefers  or  chooses,  rather  than  that  which  does 
not  suit  it  so  well,  or  please  it  so  much ;  and,  as  he 
says,  the  will  is  always  so  determined,  we  have  either 
the  act  of  will  or  choice  always  determining  itself ;  or 
every  act  of  will  or  choice,  determined  by  a  preceding 
act  of  will  or  choice,  ad  infinitum ;  for,  if  each  choice 
in  the  chain  does  not  determine  itself,  it  must,  under 
these  statements,  be  determined  by  some  preceding 
choice  or  preference  for  that  "  which,  in  the  mind's 
view,  suited  it  best,"  &c.,  constituting  the  determining 
motive. 

That  the  mind  has  in  itself,  or  in  its  own  view,  a 
motive  for  action,  is  no  reason  that  it  does  not  act 
freely ;  but  rather  the  contrary,  as  without  motive, 
adopting  Edwards's  view  of  it,  the  mind  could  not  be 
said  to  decide  as  to  its  own  actions,  having  no  reason 
whatever  to  make  such  decision  one  way  rather  than 
another,  or  to  decide  at  all ;  and  hence  would  not  will 
at  all,  freely  or  otherwise.  Motives,  then,  being  neces 
sary  to  the  mind's  willing  freely,  cannot,  merely  in  vir 
tue  of  their  existence,  be  a  reason  why  -it  does  not  will 
freely.  The  existence  of  that  thing,  which  is  a  neces- 
15 


338       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

sary  condition  to  the  existence  of  something  else,  can 
not,  of  itself,  be  a  reason  why  that  something  else  does 
not  exist,  but,  on  the  contrary,  prepares  the  way  for  its 
existence.  To  have  shown  that  the  mind  wills  without 
any  motive,  would  have  better  subserved  the  argument 
for  necessity. 

These  views  and  objections  are  suggested  by  Ed- 
wards's  definition  of  motives  and  his  remarks  upon 
them;  and  seem  to  show  that  they  admit  of  no  such 
application  to  the  mind  in  willing  as  can  furnish  a 
foundation  for  necessity ;  and  that,  in  attempting  so  to 
apply  them,  he  involves  views  contradictory  to  his  own 
positions,  and  which,  virtually,  or  by  implication,  affirm 
freedom.  If  this  is  asserting  too  much  for  the  argu 
ment  which  we  have  just  presented,  we  think  it  will 
not  be  denied  that  whether  the  motives  prove  neces 
sity  or  freedom,  must,  as  before  stated,  depend  on  their 
character.  Hence  it  becomes  important  to  know  what 
they  are,  that  their  character  may  be  ascertained ;  and, 
if  Edwards  had  in  view  some  actual  motives,  which 
would  make  this  important  link  in  his  argument,  it  is 
much  to  be  regretted  that  he  did  not  so  define  them, 
that  others  could  readily  find  and  test  them.  If  he  had 
any  idea  of  such,  his  definition,  as  before  shown,  will 
give  us  little  aid  in  finding  them  ;  and  the  illustrations 
he  subsequently  uses  do  very  little  to  relieve  us  from 
the  difficulty  of  searching  them  out  in  that  almost 
boundless  expanse,  "  the  whole  of  that,  which  moves, 
excites,  or  invites  the  mind  to  volition,"  limited  only 
by  the  one  condition  that  it  is  "  in  the  view  of  the 
mind."  This  may  embrace  everything  of  which  the 
mind  has  cognizance,  within  or  without  itself,  making 
it  difficult  to  examine  the  whole  ground ;  but,  by  a 


MOTIVE.  339 

classification  of  the  objects,  some  approximation  to  it 
may  be  possible.  Before  attempting  this,  however,  we 
will  remark  that  Edwards,  warranted  perhaps  by  the 
latitude  of  his  definition,  uses  the  term  motive  in 
two  very  different  senses ;  sometimes  as  meaning  the 
mind's  view  of  any  objects  or  things,  and  at  others,  any 
objects  or  things  which  the  mind  views.  His  definition, 
"  By  motive  I  mean  *  *  *  one  thing  singly,  or 
many  things  conjunctly,"  favors  the  latter,  as  also  the 
expression,  i(  a  motive  is  something  which  is  extant  in 
the  view  or  apprehension  of  the  understanding,  or  per 
ceiving  faculty."  And  when  he  says,  "  the  will  is  de 
termined  by  that  motive,  which,  as  it  stands  in  the  view 
of  the  mind,  is  the  strongest,"  we  should  hardly  sup 
pose  him  to  mean  that  the  view  of  the  mind  is  itself 
the  motive  that  stands  in  the  mew  of  the  mind.  This 
could  only  mean,  that  the  mind  views  what  it  views, 
or  that  it  views  another  of  its  views.  But  he  subse 
quently  says,  "  if  strict  propriety  of  speech  be  insisted 
on,"  the  act  of  volition  itself  is  always  determined  by 
that  in,  or  about  the  MIND'S  VIEW  of  the  object,  which 
causes  it  to  appear  most  agreeable  "  (p.  11),  i.  e.,  not  by 
the  object,  but  by  the  mind's  view  of  it ;  and  again,  "  the 
idea  of  the  thing  preferred  has  a  prevailing  influence  " 
(p.  Y6),  and  still  more  strongly  to  this  point,  "  the  will 
is  always  determined  ~by  the,  strongest  motive,  or  by  that 
VIEW  of  the  mind,  which  has  .the  greatest  degree  of 
"previous  tendency  to  excite  volition  "  (p.  16).  Here, 
as  he  cannot  mean  that  the  view  of  the  mind  is  some 
thing  else  than  the  strongest  motive,  which  may  also 
determine  the  will,  motive  has  got  to  be  nothing  else 
but  a  view  of  the  mind.  It  may  be  said  that  this  ex 
pression  is  elliptical,  as  there  must  be  something  which 


340  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

the  mind  views.  Still  there  remains  the  important  dis 
tinction  between  the  mind's  being  influenced  in  willing 
by  its  mew  of  the  object,  or  by  the  object  viewed.  Con 
founding  the  two  in  the  one  word  "  motive"  leads  to 
much  confusion  in  Edwards's  argument,  but  as  he  really 
thus  uses  it,  we  must,  to  give  all  the  scope  he  assumes 
for  his  position,  concede  to  him  the  double  meaning, 
and  consider  motive  as  embracing  not  only  the  mind's 
view  of  objects,  but  also  the  objects  mewed. 

But  to  return :  asserting  that  the  volition  is  deter 
mined  by  the  view  of  the  mind,  let  that  which  is 
viewed  be  what  it  may,  is  merely  saying  that  the  mind, 
in  willing,  is  determined  by  its  own  views ;  and,  as  it 
must  be  the  mind  itself  which  makes  the  application  of 
these  views,  it  is  saying  that  the  mind  determines  its 
own  act  of  will  by  means  of  its  own  views,  which  is  but 
another  expression  for  its  freedom  in  willing ;  so  that, 
if  the  essence  of  the  motive  is  in  the  view  of  the  mind, 
the  influence  which  Edwards  ascribes  to  the  motive 
confirms  the.  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing ;  and  it 
would  not  be  necessary  to  inquire  as  to  the  objects 
viewed. 

If,  however,  it  be  said,  that  although  the  mind  in 
willing  determines  itself  by  its  own  view,  yet  the  object 
viewed  is  essential  to  that  view,  and,  therefore,  essen 
tial  to  the  determination ;  it  may,  in  conformity  with 
the  views  I  have  asserted,  be  replied  that,  to  have  any 
influence,  the  object  which  the  mind  views  must  either 
be  its  own  want,  or  an  object  which  may  be  selected  to 
gratify  that  want,  or  some  knowledge  to  enable  it  to 
decide  as  to  that  selection  and  its  subsequent  action. 
If  it  is  a  want,  it  furnishes  a  foundation  for  action  to 
gratify  it ;  if  it  is  an  object  of  choice,  it  adds  to  the  sub- 


MOTIVE.  34:1 

jects  from  among  which  the  mind  may  select  to  gratify 
the  want.  If  it  is  knowledge  of  any  kind,  it  adds  to 
the  power  of  the  mind  to  adapt  the  objects  of  choice  to 
its  wants,  enabling  it  to  decide  more  intelligently  or 
wisely  as  to  its  own  acts.  The  first  furnishes  the  occa 
sion  or  opportunity  for  the  act  of  will ;  the  two  last  are 
merely  cases  of  the  knowledge  of  the  mind  being  in 
creased,  either  as  to  the  objects  wanted,  or  the  means 
of  obtaining  them,  by  which  freedom  in  willing  is  facil 
itated,  and  its  sphere  of  action  enlarged. 

In  regard  to  the  other  position,  that  the  motive  is  the 
object  viewed,  Edwards  admits  that  the  object  itself,  un 
less  in  the  view  of  the  mind,  can  have  no  influence.  He 
says :  "  Nothing  can  induce,  or  invite  the  mind  to  will,  or 
act  anything,  any  further  than  it  is  perceived,  or  is  some 
way  or  other  in  frhe  mind's  view  ;  for  what  is  wholly  un- 
perceived  and  perfectly  out  of  the  mind's  view,  cannot 
affect  the  mind  at  all "  (p.  7).  These  views  of  the 
mind,  of  any  objects  or  circumstances  whatever,  are,  as 
just  stated,  but  portions  of  its  knowledge  of  things, 
upon  which  to  exercise  its  powers  to  produce,  change,  or 
of  truths  enabling  it  to  exercise  these  powers  intelli 
gently  ;  and,  as  such,  are  essential  to  such  exercise. 
Without  them  it  would  not  make  effort,  or  will  at  all ; 
and  the  existence  of  the  things  viewed  or  objects  of 
effort,  or  of  the  mind's  view,  or  knowledge  in  regard  to 
them,  which  thus  facilitates  and  aids  the  mind  in  will 
ing,  cannot  be  a  reason  why  it  does  not  will  freely.  The 
power  existing  in  the  mind  to  avail  itself,  in  its  contem 
plated  action,  of  certain  conceivable  objects  or  circum 
stances,  may  be  limited  or  made  nugatory  in  conse 
quence  of  those  objects  and  circumstances  being  absent, 
or,  from  any  cause,  unattainable ;  but  this  does  not  pre- 


34:2       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

vent  its  willing  freely  in  regard  to  those  which  it  deems 
attainable.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a  man  is  hungry  and 
seeks  to  gratify  his  want  for  food.  He  knows  that  for 
copper  he  can  obtain  food  ;  for  silver,  better  food,  and, 
for  gold,  the  best,  or  that  food  which  he  likes  best ; 
but  he  perceives  that  the  present  circumstances  are  such 
that  he  cannot  obtain  the  gold ;  only  silver  and  cop 
per  are  possible.  He  acts  just  as  freely  in  the  prelim 
inary  effort  to  ascertain  which  of  these  two  it  is  best  to 
strive  for,  and  in  his  subsequent  efforts  to  obtain  and  ap 
ply  the  one  selected  by  the  preliminary  act,  as  he  would 
have  done  had  all  the  three  been  attainable.  His  free 
dom  consists,  not  in  his  having  power  to  make  the  cir 
cumstances  already  existing  different  from  what  they 
are  at  the  time,  which  is  a  contradiction,  and  hence  not 
within  the  province  even  of  Infinite  Power  to  accom 
plish,  but  in  directing  his  efforts,  by  virtue  of  his  own 
intelligence,  to  effect  desired  changes  among  the  circum 
stances  as  they  are  at  the  moment  of  his  action.  If  the 
circumstances  had  been  different,  he  might  have  acted 
differently,  and  yet  have  willed  freely,  because — and 
even  supposing  the  same  circumstances  to  necessarily 
produce  the  same  effect — a  free  act  of  will  may  be  as 
different  from  what  it  would  be  under  different  circum 
stances,  as  if  it  were  necessitated  by  the  circumstances  ; 
and  no  inference  against  its  freedom  can  be  drawn  from 
this  variety  of  action  under  different  circumstances.  If 
the  power  to  effect  the  change  were  directly  exerted  by 
the  circumstances,  it  would  argue  in  favor  of  necessity  ; 
but  as  these  circumstances  can  only  change  ^the  knowl 
edge  of  the  mind — the  mind's  "view — which  the  mind 
must  itself  apply  in  its  action,  it  argues  self-government 
or  freedom.  In  this  latter  case,  the  influence  of  the 


MOTIVE.  343 

motives  amounts  only  to  the  mind's  applying  its 
knowledge  and  efforts  to  make  these  circumstances 
subservient  to  its  own  designs,  and  thus  available  in 
gratifying  its  wants.  To  say  that  the  mind  does  not 
will  freely  because  various  objects  of  effort  exist,  and 
the  mind  has  the  faculty  of  perceiving,  or  of  finding 
reasons  for  preferring  one  or  more  of  them  to  others, 
and  has  a  motive  to  act  in  conformity  to  that  prefer 
ence  ;  is  to  say,  that  the  mind  does  not  act  freely,  be 
cause  it  has  the  opportunity  and  ability  to  choose  its 
action,  and  to  conform  its  action  to  such  choice.  It  is 
obvious  that  this  variety  of  objects  or  of  circumstances 
is  essential  to  the  preliminary  effort  of  the  mind  in 
choosing.  It  wants  to  produce  a  certain  effect  in  the 
future.  If  the  mode  of  doing  it  is  not  already  known, 
or  immediately  perceived,  it  examines,  i.  e.,  makes  a 
preliminary  effort  to  find  a  mode ;  and  if  more  than  one 
mode  is  found,  it  compares  and  ascertains  which  is  pre 
ferable  ;  it  chooses  among  them ;  and  may  then,  by 
yet  another  preliminary  act,  ascertain  -whether  action 
or  non-action  is  preferable ;  it  chooses  as  between  ac 
tion  and  non-action.  In  all  these  preliminary  efforts  it 
has  obtained  only  knowledge ;  and  if  having  chosen 
thus  to  act,  it  does  not  so  act,  or  make  such  effort,  it 
must  be  because  it  is  constrained  or  restrained  from 
controlling  and  directing  its  own  action.  But  no  exter 
nal  power  can  control  or  restrain  the  effort,  though  it 
may  frustrate  the  design  and  defeat  the  object  of  it. 
Much  that  I  have  before  said  of  the  relation  of  circum 
stances  to  the  mind  in  willing,  is  especially  applicable 
to  preliminary  efforts  of  the  mind  in  choosing ;  and  all 
goes  to  show  that  volition,  both  as  a  final  act  and  as  a 
preliminary,  by  examination,  to  choice,  is  an  original 


344  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

act  of  the  mind,  which,  but  for  its  action,  would  not 
be ;  and  which  might  be,  though  there  were  no  ac 
tivity  or  power  besides  itself  in  existence  at  the  time 
of  such  choice,  or  such  volition  ;  and  hence,  nothing  to 
constrain  and  nothing  to  restrain  or  limit  it  but  the 
consciousness  of  its  own  finite  nature.  And,  even  this 
cannot  be  said  to  be  a  limit  to  its  power  of  choosing  or 
of  willing ;  but  only  a  limit  to  its  power  of  conceiving 
of  things  to  be  chosen  or  acts  to  be  willed  or  done,  and 
of  its  knowledge  of  modes  or  means  to  do  them. 
"Whenever  it  can  conceive  of  anything  to  be  done  and 
that  there  may  be  a  possible  mode  of  doing  it,  it  can 
make  the  eifort,  although,  from  its  finite  nature,  it  is 
liable  to  be  mistaken  in  the  relation  of  means  to  the 
end ;  and  to  be  frustrated  in  the  execution  of  its  design. 
It  is  not  in  the  willing  to  do,  but  in  the  doing  what'we 
will,  that  we  are  liable  to  be  frustated  or  disappointed 
by  the  circumstances  which  are  extrinsic  to  the  mind, 
and  those  circumstances  which  are  independent  of  the 
mind  only  fix  what  the  mind  is  to  choose  among,  and 
do  not  influence  its  freedom  in  the  act  by  which  it 
chooses  among  them,  nor  in  its  action  in  regard  to  at 
taining  that  which  is  chosen. 

In  seeking  for  such  a  motive  as  Edwards  uses  in  his" 
argument,  I  would  suggest  the  following  classification 
of  the  a  somethings  which  may  exist  in  the  view  of  the 
mind,"  in  which  phrase  he  gives  the  only  clue  to  his 
idea  of  motive.  As  classing  some  of  these  as  motives 
may  appear  contradictory  and  futile,  I  may,  in  justice 
to  Edwards,  observe  that  many  of  them  are  such  as  he 
does  not  seem  to  contemplate ;  though  his  definitions 
and  statements  are  broad  enough  to  cover  everything 
conceivable,  and  I  wish  to  give  to  the  argument  all  he 


MOTIVE.  345 

can  possibly  claim  for  it.  I  suggest,  then,  the  following 
objects  as  possibly  coming  within  his  definition  of  mo 
tives. 

1.  The  mind  itself. 

2.  Its  attributes,  or  faculties. 

3.  Its  emotions.    /   _ 

t  Constituting  its  feeling. 

4.  Its  sensations.  ) 

5.  Its  innate  knowledge.* 


6.  Its  memories  of  things  and 

thoughts  in  the  past. 

7.  Its  perceptions  of  the  present. 


Constituting 

its 
knowledge. 


8.  Its  conceptions  of  the  future. 

9.  Its  imaginings. 

10.  Its  associations. 

11.  Other  mind;     representing  all  intelligences,  other  than  the 

mind  to  be  determined. 

12.  The  faculties  of  these  other  minds. 

13.  Its  emotions. 

14.  Its  sensations. 

15.  Its  knowledge,  past,  present  and  future. 

16.  Material  phenomena;  including  any  circumstances,  which  are 

extrinsic  to  mind. 

We  will  consider  these  in  their  respective  order. 

1.  If  the  mind  itself  is  the  motive  that  determines 
its  own  act  of  will,  then,  as  before  shown,  the  mind  in 
such  an  act  of  will  is  free. 

2.  If  the  attributes  or  faculties  of  the  mind  are  the 
motives,  then,  as  these  attributes  or  faculties  can  do 
nothing  except  as  they  are  exercised  or  exerted  by  the 
mind,  it  must  be  the  mind,  in  the  exercise  of  its  facul 
ties,  that  determines  the  will;    which,   again,   would 
prove  the  mind's  freedom  in  willing. 

3.  An  emotion,  which  is  not  in  itself  a  want,  and 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLIV. 
15* 


346  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

which  does  not  produce  want,  is  not  a  motive.  As  we 
have  already  suggested  that  no  want  arises,  so  no  act 
of  will  can  spring  from  that  joy,  which  so  satisfies  the 
mind  that  it  desires  no  change,  or  from  that  holy  and 
unselfish  grief  which  it  would  not  banish  nor  modify ; 
and,  of  that  anguish  which  arises  from  the  conscious 
ness  of  error,  the  cause  is  in  the  past,  and  cannot  be 
reached  by  any  act  of  will ;  while  admiration,  wonder, 
and  awe  compose  or  still,  rather  than  excite,  the  active 
faculty.  All  these  but  make  a  part  of  the  past  expe 
rience,  adding  to  that  present  knowledge  which  aids  the 
mind  in  determining  its  course  in  the  future.  But  with 
these  and  other  emotions,  as  love,  hope,  fear,  anger,  the 
mind  may  have  corresponding  wants,  if  only  the  want 
to  derive  pleasure,  variety,  or  excitement  from  them. 
These  wants,  and  the  sensation  or  perception  of  these 
wants,  may  induce  the  mind  to  act  for  its  own  gratifica 
tion  or  relief.  But  the  wants  cannot  themselves  deter 
mine  that  action,  for  that  must  depend  on  the  percep 
tion  by  the  mind  of  the  means  of  gratifying  the  want ; 
and  the  perception  must  include,  or  be  the  preconcep 
tion  of,  the  relation  of  the  future  effect  of  its  own  act  to 
its  want,  which  brings  it  to  the  case  of  the  mind  deter 
mining  its  action  by  its  own  view,  which  we  have  be 
fore  considered.  If  it  has  no  such  perception  of  a 
means  of  gratifying  the  want  by  an  act  of  will,  and 
that  the  want  may  thereby  be  gratified,  there  is  no  act 
of  will  put  forth ;  which  shows  that  the  mind,  in  grati 
fying  any  want  which  may  arise  from  the  emotions, 
still  directs  its  action  by  means  of  its  preconception  or 
knowledge  of  the  future  effect  of  its  effort,  which  it  only 
can  apply,  and  hence  in  such  effort  acts  freely. 

4.  Sensation,  as  before  stated,  may,  with  knowledge, 


MOTIVE.  347 

produce  want,  suggesting  some  change  for  its  gratifica 
tion  ;  or,  it  may  be  but  a  perception  of  an  external  fact 
in  the  present,  involving  no  want  of  change  in  the  fu 
ture.  The  effect  of  want  as  a  motive,  and  of  the  inci 
dental  addition  of  another  fact  to  our  knowledge,  have 
both  been  already  sufficiently  considered  in  their  re 
spective  relations  to  the  determination  of  the  mind  in 
willing,  and  shown  not  to  militate  against  its  freedom. 

5.  Innate  knowledge  is  that  knowledge  which  is 
directly  communicated  by  the  Creator  to  the  creature, 
but,  becoming  a  portion  of  its  own  knowledge,  in  no 
respect  differs  in  its  effects  or  influence  on  the  will  from 
other  or  acquired  knowledge.     That,  as  suggested  in 
our  chapter  on  instinct,  it  may  be  in  such  a  form  as  not 
to  require  any  contrivance  to  adapt  it  to  use,  in  the  act 
of  willing,  and  thus  facilitates  the  action  of  the  mind  in 
willing,  does  not  conflict  with  the  mind's  freedom  in 
the  act  which  is  thus  facilitated. 

6.  The  mind's  memory  of  the  past,  including  its  own 
thoughts,  and  embracing,  of  course,  the  knowledge  of 
things,  events,  and  abstract  truths  which  it  has  acquired 
in  that  past.     The  things  and  events  from  being  in  the 
past,  and  the  abstract  truths  from  their  nature,  are  un 
changeable,  and  hence  not  subjects  for  the  action  of  the 
will,  and  only  make  a  portion  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
mind,  by  which  it  is  enabled  to  decide  its  future  course. 

7.  The  result  of  the  mind's  perceptions  of  the  present 
is  a  knowledge  of  existing  things.     These  may  admit 
of  a  succession  differing  from  themselves — of  change 
— and  this  change  be  the  object  of  the  mind's  act  of 
will ;   but  the  mind  will  not  will,  or  make  effort  to 
change  them,  unless  it  has  some  want  to  be  gratified 
by  such  change.     The  things  themselves  cannot  indi- 


348       REVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

cate  what  changes  will  gratify  the  want,  for  they  cannot 
even  know  what  the  want  is.  To  do  this  requires  intel 
ligence.  To  adapt  things,  or  the  changes  in  things, 
which  are  effected  by  volition,  to  the  simplest  want, 
requires  not  only  knowledge,  but  contrivance,  which 
things  have  not.  For  instance,  hunger  is  the  want  of 
food  in  the  stomach :  we  cannot  immediately  will  the 
food  there,  but  have  to  apply  our  knowledge  and  power 
of  thought  or  examination,  in  adapting  and  devising 
means  and  ways  of  doing  it ;  even  after  it  is  in  the 
mouth,  it  is  not  the  food  that  knows  that  it  must  be 
masticated  and  swallowed,  and  the  order  of  these  two 
processes.  It  is  the  mind's  perception,  that  by  the 
various  acts,  from  the  procuring  the  food  to  the  swal 
lowing  of  it,  and  by  these  acts,  in  a  certain  order,  the 
sensation  of  hunger  may  be  relieved,  that  enables  it 
intelligently  to  determine  its  successive  efforts  to  that 
end ;  and  this  preconception  of  the  effect  of  its 
efforts  it  is  enabled  to  form  by  its  faculty  of  conceiving 
of  the  future — its  finite  prophetic  power — which  is 
aided  and  rendered  less  fallible  by  every  increase  of  its 
knowledge.  In  such  case,  neither  the  mind's  percep 
tions  nor  that  which  is  perceived  can  determine ;  but 
the  perception  or  knowledge  enables  the  mind  to  de- 
termiie. 

8.  The  mind's  conception  of  the  future  is  itself  a 
view  by  the  mind,  and,  as  such,  embraced  in  our  re 
marks  on  the  mind  in  willing  being  determined  by  its 
own  views.  We  are  admitting  the  largest  possible  lat 
itude  to  what  may  be  conceived  to  be  motive,  but  the 
mind's  own  view  or  conception  of  the  future,  of  some 
thing  which  as  yet  has  no  objective  reality,  but  is  exclu 
sively  a  view  of  the  mind  within  itself,  seems  hardly 


MOTIVE.  349 

such  a  motive  as  Edwards  speaks  of  as  "  standing  in  the 
mind's  view  ;  "  for  the  mind's  perception  of  that  future 
is  the  mind's  view  itself,  and  not  something  which 
stands  in  that  view.  If  this  be  the  motive,  we  need 
not  repeat  our  reasoning  to  show  that  such  views  of  the 
mind,  such  motives,  are  the  essential  element  which 
enables  the  mind  to  determine  its  own  acts  of  will  as  an 
independent,  creative,  first  cause. 

The  motive  cannot  be  that  future  which  the  mind 
views,  for  it,  as  yet,  has  no  alrtual  existence,  and  can 
have  no  influence  on  the  mind  except  by  or  through  the 
mind's  anticipation  of  it,  which  is  the  mind's  view  just 
considered,  and  makes  a  portion  of  its  knowledge. 

9.  The  mind's  imaginings  being  such  combinations 
as  have  no  objective  existence,  past  or  present,  but  sup 
posed  capable  of  existence,  may  also  be  regarded  as  in  the 
future,  and  be  classed  with  those  conceptions  which  are 
incipient  creations  of  the  mind.     Being  palpable  and 
tangible  to  itself,  they  gratify  some  want  of  the  mind, 
as  the  love  of  knowledge,  the  sentiment  of  beauty,  &c. 
If,  for  convenience,  we  take  some  circumstances  of  the 
past,  and  in  imagination  vary  them,  or  add  some  new 
feature,  the  new  combination  really  has  no  past  exist 
ence,  and,  as  present,  exists  only  as  a  view  of  the  mind 
without  any  objective  existence ;  and,  whether  we  locate 
it  in  the  past,  present,  or  future,  or  give  it  no  particular 
place  in  time,  makes  no  more  difference  than  the  loca 
ting  of  a  geometrical  diagram  in  time.     In  both  cases 
they  are  but  constructions,  affording  pleasure  by  their 
harmony,  symmetry,  and  beauty,  or  aiding  the  mind  to 
solve  some  problem  and  thus  to  increase  its  knowledge. 

10.  The  associations  of  the  mind  are  only  other  por 
tions  of  its  knowledge,  suggested  by  that  portion  which 


350  REVIEW   OF  EDWARDS   ON   THE  WILL.    '  , 

is  immediately  in  its  view ;  and,  though  very  important 
in  giving  the  mind  a  ready  use  of  its  knowledge  in  the 
formation  of  its  plans,  which  are  prerequisites  of  rational 
action,  and  yet  more  especially,  in  that  recalling  of 
former  plans,  which  is  the  basis  of  habitual  action,  still 
association  is  but,  in  this  connection,  a  means  by  which 
the  mind  uses  its  knowledge  in  directing  its  will,  and 
requires  here  no  further  comment. 

11.  Any  other  mind  or-  intelligence,  as  a  mere  object, 
viewed  or  apprehended  "by  the  mind,  can  have  no  influ 
ence  differing  in  kind  from  that  of  the  mind's  view  of 
any  other  extrinsic  object,  and  this  we  have  already 
considered.    If  this  other  mind  has  in  it  anything  which 
will  gratify  a  want  in  the  mind  that  views  it,  this  mind 
may  put  forth  an  effort  to  obtain  that  thing.     We  have 
before  considered  in  a  similar  connection  the  case  of  the 
will  of  one  mind  being  controlled  directly  or  indirectly 
by  another  mind  by  means  of  the  exercise  of  any  of  its 
powers,  or  otherwise,  and  need  not  repeat  the  reason 
ing  or  the  result ;  and  this,  with  the  consideration  that 
those  powers  cannot  exert  themselves  or  have  any  influ 
ence  except  as  exerted  by  the  mind  to  which  they  ap 
pertain,  disposes,  also,  of 

12.  The  attributes  and  faculties  o£  one  mind,  as  a 
motive,  determining  the  will  of  another  mind. 

13.  14,  15.  The  emotions,  sensations,  and  knowledge 
of  another  mind  can  have  no  influence,  except  as  they 
are  made  manifest  to  the  mind  to  be  influenced  in  that 
case,  becoming  but  portions  of  its  own  knowledge,  and, 
as  such,  already  shown  not  to  interfere  with  its  freedom 
in  willing.     We  may,  however,  further  remark  that  the 
knowledge  which  one  mind  acquires  from  another  co 
ordinate  or  like  mind,  must  be  of  the  same  character  as 


MOTIVE.  351 

that  which  it  acquires  or  has  from  other  sources ;  and 
that  the  knowledge  which  the  finite  mind  derives  from 
the  Infinite  when  directly  imparted  is  intuitive ;  and 
when  indirectly^  by  the  written  expression  of  His 
thoughts  in  nature,  they  .are  but  the  knowledge  of 
material  phenomena  or  that  which  is  extrinsic  to  the 
mind,  which  belongs  under  our  next  and  last  division. 

16.  Material  phenomena,  including  any  circum 
stances  which  are  extrinsic  to  the  mind.  Material 
objects  cannot,  of  themselves,  be  such  a  motive,  for  they 
may  have  existed  from  all  eternity,  and  yet  never  have 
produced  or  determined  a  volition,  and  even  may  have 
been  in  the  mind's  view  for  any  length  of  time  and  yet 
never  have  moved  it  to  will,  or  determined  its  will ; 
but  if  they  are  a  necessary  cause  in  themselves,  then 
the  moment  they  exist  they  must  produce  their  effect, 
or  if  the  additional  circumstance  that  they  must  be  u  in 
the  mind's  view,"  makes  them  the  cause  of  volition^  in 
that  mind,  then,  as  soon  as  they  are  in  that  mind's  view, 
the  volition  should  follow.  That  this  is  not  the  fact, 
proves  that  there  is  something  besides  the  material 
object  and  the  fact  that  it  is  in  the  mind's  view,  which 
produces  the  effect,  or  determines  the  will.  The  same 
is  true  of  extrinsic  circumstances.  Nor  can  any  changes 
in  these  extrinsic  objects  and  circumstances,  whether 
produced  by  the  motion  of  matter,  or  by  intelligent 
action,  of  itself,  move  the  mind  to  will.  Increase  or 
vary  the  circumstances  ever  so  much,  they  could  no 
more  produce  any  volition  in  themselves  or  in  others 
— a  volition  having  reference  to  an  effect  which  as  yet 
is  not — than  the  extension  of  the  multiplication  table 
could  make  it  know  itself  or  feel  hungry.  However 
blindly  active  among  themselves,  they  cannot  embrace 


352       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

that  design,  that  intention,  to  produce  a  preconceived 
result,  which  is  an  essential  characteristic  of  volition, 
and  which  distinguishes  the  action  of  intelligent  from 
blind  causes.  For  this  they  avail  nothing  until  the 
mind  uses  them  as  its  knowledge  to  determine  its  action ; 
and  the  mind  is  itself  really  the  efficient  cause  of  that 
determination,  freely  adapting  its  action  to  the  circum 
stances  in  its  view.  There  is,  evidently,  no  way  in 
which  these  circumstances  can  directly  produce  a  voli 
tion  in  the  human  mind,  and  if  they  could,  it  would  be 
the  volition  of  the  circumstances,  and  not  of  the  human 
being.  These  extrinsic  circumstances  can  influence  the 
mind  in  willing  only  as  they  are  perceived  or  appre 
hended  by  the  mind,  and,  as  such,  become  but  a  part  of 
the  mind's  knowledge,  and,  of  course,  subject  to  our 
previous  conclusions,  that  knowledge,  however  acquired, 
is  used  by  the  mind  to  enable  it  to  determine  its  acts  ; 
arycl  hence,  is  essential  to  its  freedom  in  willing  ;  every 
increase  in  knowledge  enlarging  its  sphere  for  the  exer 
cise  of  such  freedom. 

There  are  vague  notions,  in  the  popular  mind,  in 
regard  to  the  influence  of  circumstances  upon  us,  often 
bordering  on  fatalism,  if  not  really  involving  it,  and 
which  find  expression  in  such  phrases  as  "  man  is  the 
sport,"  or  "  he  is  the  creature  of  circumstances."  One 
reason  for  this  is,  that  we  are  liable  to  be  frustrated  by 
circumstances  in  the  execution  of  what  we  will.  This, 
it  will  be  observed,  is  such  an  effect,  after  the  act  of 
willing,  as  can  have  no  influence  backward  upon  it. 
I  will  to  walk  in  a  certain  direction,  but  am  obstructed 
by  a  rushing  torrent,  which  God  has  caused  to  flow 
there,  or  by  a  wall  erected  through  human  agency. 
The  circumstance  prevents  my  doing  what  I  intended, 


MOTIVE.  353 

and  what,  from  want  of  sufficient  knowledge,  I  decided 
to  do.  The  new  knowledge  thus  acquired,  leads  me  to 
alter  my  course,  and  I  may  never  again  fall  into  the 
same  track  that  I  would  otherwise  have  pursued.  I  go 
on  to  produce  some  change,  but  what  that  change  will 
be  depends  upon  the  use  which  my  mind  makes  of  this 
new,  combined  with  its  previous  knowledge,  in  directing 
its  subsequent  action.  Though  I  cannot,  as  now  ascer 
tained,  go  in  the  direction  intended,  there  are  still  an 
infinite  number  of  ways  in  which  I  can  go  ;  and  among 
these  my  mind,  in  virtue  of  its  intelligence,  judges 
which  is  best.  It  may  do  this  by  a  preliminary  free 
act,  and  then,  being  free,  conform  its  final  action  to  its 
judgment ;  and  hence,  this  influence  of  circumstances 
does  not  argue  that  the  mind  does  not  act  freely  in 
willing,  but  only  that  it  cannot  always  execute  its  de 
crees  ;  not  that  it  does  not  freely  try,  or  make  effort, 
but  that  its  power  is  not  always  adequate  to  the  effect 
designed,  or  its  knowledge  sufficient  to  direct  its  efforts 
most  wisely,  and  the  want  of  freedom,  if  such  this  want 
of  power  may  be  termed,  is  just  where  Edwards  asserts 
the  only  freedom  of  man  exists. 

As  the  mind's  being  liable  to  be  frustrated  in  the 
execution  of  what  it  wills  by  the  existence  of  circum 
stances  of  which,  it  did  not  know,  is  one  reason  of  the 
popular  idea  in  regard  to  the  influence  of  circumstances, 
so,  on  the  other  hand,  another  reason  for  it  may  be 
found  in  the  limitation  of  the  circumstances — in  the 
absence  or  non-existence  of  some  that  are  essential  to 
the  execution — to  the  doing  what  is  attempted — or  of 
some  which,  are  prerequisites  of  the  effort,  which  it 
would  or  might  make,  if  they  were  present  and  avail 
able,  and  for  the  want  of  which  the  mind  either  does 


354:  REVIEW   OF   EDWAEDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

not  will,  or  wills  differently  from  what  it  would  if  they 
were  present  and  available  as  a  portion  of  its  knowl 
edge'.  In  their  absence,  the  mind  knows  no  mode  of 
obtaining  the  object  for  which  such  circumstances  are 
prerequisite.  This  does  not  affect  its  freedom  in  willing 
as  to  what,  under  the  circumstances,  is  attainable,  but 
only  lessens  the  sphere  in  which  it  can  exercise  that 
freedom.  This  sphere,  as  before  stated,  is  always  com 
mensurate  with  its  knowledge ;  and  it  matters  not 
whether  the  knowledge  requisite  to  any  effort — the 
knowledge  of  some  mode — is  deficient,  because  such 
knowledge  cannot  exist,  or  simply  because  it  does  not 
exist  in  the  mind.  The  limitation  of  the  sphere  of  effort 
is  the  same  in  either  case.  I  may  know  not  only  that 
/cannot  now  make  2  +  2=5,  but  that  it  is  an  impossi 
bility,  and  hence,  will  not  seek  any  mode  of  doing  it. 
I  may  also  know  that  I  have  no  knowledge  of  any  geo 
metrical  process  by  which  to  trisect  an  arc,  and,  as  I  do 
not  know  that  this  is  an  impossibility,  I  may  seek  to 
increase  my  knowledge,  and  by  means  of  such  increase 
devise  some  mode  in  conformity  to  which  I  may  direct 
my  efforts  to  trisect  the  arc.  So  that,  whether  the 
thing  to  be  done  be  absolutely  impossible,  from  there 
being  no  possible  mode  of  doing  it,  or  only  relatively 
to  me  impossible,  because  I  know  of  no  way,  the  for 
mula  heretofore  adopted,  that  the  mind's  sphere  of  free 
activity,  or  for  the  exercise  of  its  creative  powers  by  will 
or  effort,  is  commensurate  with  its  knowledge,  covers  the 
whole  ground.  If  the  mind  of  every  human  being  at 
all  times  embraced  all  knowledge,  then,  all  the  circum 
stances  presented  to  every  mind  would,  of  necessity,  be 
the  same,  but  by  the  limitation  of  human  knowledge 
different  circumstances  are  presented  to  different  minds. 


MOTIVE.  355 

^ 

Of  two  persons  wanting  a  metal,  one  may  have,  within 
his  power,  lead,  zinc,  and  gold ;  another  only  lead  and 
zinc ;  hut  the  latter  chooses  and  conforms  his  effort  to 
his  choice  as  freely  in  regard  to  the  two,  as  the  former 
in  regard  to  the  three.  If  a  man  with  all  the  natural 
endowments  of  Newton,  and  with  his  acquired  habits 
of  industrious  and  persevering  study,  had  always  lived 
in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  he  would  not  have  had,  in  the 
surrounding  circumstances,  the  opportunities  essential 
to  such  discoveries  as  Newton  made.  The  requisite 
books  and  instruments — the  means  of  knowledge — 
would  not  have  been  there  accessible,  or  to  him  pos 
sible;  but  he  would  have  been  equally  free  by  effort  to 
avail  himself  of  such  means  as  were  there  in  his  power. 

The  mind  varies  its  own  action  to  conform  to  the 
relations  which  it  perceives  between  the  circumstances 
and  the  preconception  of  the  effect  by  which  it  seeks  to 
gratify  its  want,  and  it  does  this  in  virtue  of  that  intel 
ligence,  which,  perceiving  this  relation,  makes  self- 
control  and  freedom,  or  self-action  free  from  extrinsic 
control,  possible  to  it. 

We  find  then,  in  all  this  conceivable  range,  no  mo 
tive  that  so  determines  the  will  as  to  warrant  the  infer 
ence  of  necessity ;  none  to  which  the  mind  itself  is 
subordinated,  or  which  will  admit  of  dispensing  with 
the  mind  itself  as  the  cause,  which  determines  its  own 
acts  of  will. 

Let  us  now  see  if  Edwards  has  himself  indicated  any 
such  actual  motive.  In  the  general  statement,  already 
quoted,  he  affirms  that  without  motive  the  mind  in 
willing  "  has  no  end  which  it  proposes  to  itself,  or  pur 
sues  in  so  doing  ;  it  aims  at  nothing,  and  seeks  nothing, 
and,  if  it  seeks  nothing,  then  it  does  not  go  after  any- 


356  REVIEW    OF   EDWARDS    ON   THE   WILL. 

thing"  These  expressions  indicate  that  the  essence  of 
the  motive  is  in  the  end  which  the  mind  seeks,  some 
thing  which  as  yet  is  not,  but  which  will  be  the  effect 
of  its  volition,  and  that  which  is  in  the  yiew  of  the 
mind  as  the  motive  to  the  volition,  is  the  idea  of  the 
effect  of  the  volition.  But  the  idea  or  preconception  of 
the  effect  of  a  volition  could  have  no  influence  toward 
a  volition,  if  the  mind  did  not  want  to  produce  the  effect 
it  preconceived.  The  want  is  the  incitement  to  effort ; 
and  the  mind's  judgment  or  knowledge  as  to  the  adapta 
tion  of  the  effect,  which  it  anticipates  in  the  future,  to 
the  want  and  of  the  effort  to  the  effect,  enables  it  to 
determine  as  to  the  particular  effort  or  volition  it  will 
put  forth. 

So,  also,  in  the  particular  case  by  which  he  illus 
trates  the  influence  of  the  strongest  motive,  he  says : 
"  Thus,  when  a  drunkard  has  his  liquor  before  him,  and 
he  has  to  choose  whether  to  drink  it  or  no  ;  the  proper 
and  immediate  objects,  about  which  his  present  volition 
is  conversant,  and  between  which  his  choice  now  de 
cides,  are  his  own  acts  in  drinking  the  liquor,  or  letting 
it  alone ;  and  this  will  certainly  be  done  according  to 
what,  in  the  present  view  of  his  mind  taken  in  the 
whole  of  it,  is  most  agreeable  to  him.  If  he  chooses  or 
wills  to  drink  it,  and  not  to  let  it  alone,  then  this 
action,  as  it  stands  in  the  view  of  his  mind,  with  all 
that  belongs  to  its  appearance  there,  is  more  agreeable 
and  pleasing,  than  letting  it  alone  "  (p.  10). 

The  expression  "  between  which  his  choice  now  de 
cides,"  must  mean,  between  which  he  Ijy  an  act  of  choice 
now  decides  (otherwise  he  makes  choice  decide  the 
choice),  and,  taking  this  as  his  meaning,  the  objects 
contemplated  by  the  drunkard  are  his  own  acts  in 


MOTIVE.  357 

"  drinking  or  letting  alone,"  either  of  which  is  yet  in 
the  future. 

It  is  true  that  Edwards  immediately  says,  "  But  the 
objects  to  which  this  act  of  volition  may  relate  more 
remotely,  and  between  which  his  choice  may  determine 
more  indirectly,  are  the  present  pleasure  the  man  expects 
by  drinking,  and  the  future  misery  which  he  judges 
will  be  the  consequence  of  it ;  "  but,  at  the  time  of  this 
judgment,  both  the  drinking  and  its  consequences  are 
in  the  future — still  expected — and  the  anticipated  con 
ception  of  them  is  all  that  "  is  in  the  mind's  view." 
The  mind  by  its  judgment  is  to  weigh  its  preconception 
of  the  effect  of  "  drinking  the  liquor,"  against  its  pre 
conception  of  the  consequences  of  "  letting  it  alone," 
which,  Edwards  has  just  said,  are  the  acts  between 
which  the  drunkard's  choice  now  decides  ;  and  though 
Edwards  does  not  expressly  say  so,  yet,  to  give  the  illus 
tration  any  force  or  meaning,  we  must  suppose  that,  of 
the  two  acts  about  which  he  says  "  the  present  volition 
is  conversant,"  that  one  which,  "  as  it  stands  in  the 
view  of  his  mind  with  all  that  belongs  to  its  appearance 
there,"  is  most  agreeable,  or  suits  it  best,  is  the  strong 
est  motive ;  and  this  is  but  a  preconception  of  the 
effects  of  a  certain  act,  which  the  mind  decides  to  be  in 
accordance  with  that  want  which  it  seeks  to  gratify. 
As  already  remarked,  Edwards  does  not  say  this, -nor 
does  he  appear  to  have  had  any  clear  thought  of  it ;  but 
it  seems  difficult  to  make  the  facts  he  states,  or  the  case 
he  cites,  illustrate  any  other  position  than  that  his  mo 
tive  is,  in  fact,  the  mind's  view  of  the  future  effect -of 
its  own  action,  and  this  is  the  mind's  knowledge  by 
which  it  perceives  a  reason  for  acting  and  for  the  partic 
ular  direction  of  its  action,  and  not  a  motive  power 


358       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

putting  the  mind  in  action.  Such  view  is  but  the  rea 
son  why  the  mind,  as  cause,  acts  in  one  particular  man 
ner,  instead  of  another,  rather  than  a  cause  itself  of  the 
action,  or  of  the  particular  manner  of  the  action.  His 
"  motive,"  however,  as  illustrated  in  this  instance,  corre 
sponds  to  the  influence  which  I  have  assigned  to  the 
mind's  preconception  of  the  effects  of  its  effort,  and  "  the 
mind's  view  "  is  but  a  portion  of  its  knowledge,  which 
it  uses  to  determine  its  action,  as  it  uses  any  other 
knowledge  it  may  have,  and  which  knowledge,  as 
already  indicated,  by  a  preliminary  effort  to  examine, 
or  to  consider,  by  deliberation,  and  sometimes  perhaps 
by  an  immediate  mental  perception,  becomes  the  judg 
ment  of  the  mind.  As  he  uses  "  motive  "  in  some  other 
places,  it  indicates  the  influence  which  I  have  assigned 
to  want ;  and,  in  this  instance,  just  quoted,  tne  decision 
of  the  mind  is  really  to  be  between  two  conflicting 
wants — the  want  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  "  drinking 
the  liquor,"  and  the  want,  "  by  letting  it  alone,"  to 
avoid  the  unpleasant  consequences  of  drinking  it — 
both  of  which,  under  Edwards's  view,  must  be  motives ; 
and  that,  the  gratification  of-  which  in  the  mind's  view 
suits  it  best,  is  the  strongest  motive. 

Even  admitting,  then,  that  the  same  causes  neces 
sarily/produce  the  same  effects,  which  is  still  an  essential 
link  in  this  argument  for  necessity,  this  doctrine  of  mo 
tives,  from  its  inception  in  the  definition  and  statements 
of  it  to  its  conclusion,  reveals  nothing  which  really  con 
flicts  with  the  results  attained  in  Book  First  of  this 
Treatise ;  and,  on  examination,  it  turns  out  that  the 
motive  which,  by  a  mere  hypothesis,  is  made  the  cause 
of  the  determination  of  the  will,  can  be  in  reality  noth 
ing  but  the  mind  itself,  or  the  mind's  own  views  ;  andr 


MOTIVE.  359 

in  either  case,  as  the  application  of  the  views  must  be 
made  by  the  mind  that  views,  it  is  the  mind  which  de 
termines  its  own  volitions  or  efforts.  And  this  expres 
sion  for  its  freedom  is  made  more  emphatic  by  the  de 
velopment  which  comes  out  in  the  illustration  and  in 
the  final  summing  up  of  the  argument  by  Edwards,  that 
the  mind  in  willing  is  not  only  determined  by  its  own 
views,  but  by  its  view  of  the  future  effects  of  its  own 
action,  as  yet  having  no  existence  except  in  its  own 
preconception,  which  is  its  own  creation ;  or  rather,  by 
the  relations  which  it  perceives  between  its  own  cre 
ated  preconception  and  its  own  want ;  and  the  consid 
eration  that  these  relations  do  not  inhere  either  in  the 
want  or  in  the  preconception,  but  are  in  the  mind's 
view  wholly  by  the  exercise  of  its  intelligent  faculties — 
its  own  thought — directed  to  the  examination  by  means 
of  its  own  previous  knowledge,  intuitive  or  acquired ; 
that  such  examination  is  essential  to  a  wise  action ;  and 
that  it  is  by  such  knowledge  that  Supreme  Intelligence 
itself  must  direct  its  action  ;  serve  at  once  to  illustrate 
and  strengthen  our  position.  It  would,  indeed,  seem 
that  there  could  be  no  stronger  expression  of  the  free 
dom  of  an  intelligent  agent  in  willing,  than  that  it 
determines  its  own  acts  of  will,  by  means  of  the  knowl 
edge  obtained  by  the  exercise  of  its  own  faculties,  of 
the  relation  between  its  own  creations — the  preconcep 
tions  of  the  future  effects  of  its  efforts — and  its  own 
wants.  The  whole  process  and  all  the  elements  of  the 
act  of  will  in  such  case  are  in  and  of  the  being  that 
wills. 

But,  supposing  all  these  difficulties  and  objections 
to  these  positions  of  Edwards  to  be,  in  some  way,  sur 
mounted,  we  have  still  to  inquire  as  to  the  meaning  of 


360  KEVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

that  "previous  tendency,"  which  is  an  all-important 
element  in  motive,  as  applied  in  his  argument  for  neces 
sity.  He  says  :  "  Every  thing  that  is  properly  called  a 
motive  *  *  *  has  some  sort  and  degree  of  tendency, 
or  advantage  to  move,  or  excite  the  will  previous  to  the 
effect,  or  to  the  act  of  will  excited.  This  previous  tend 
ency  of  the  motive  is  what  I  call  the  strength  of  the 
motive  "  (p.  7).  And  again  :  "  Whatever  is  perceived 
or  apprehended  by  an  intelligent  and  voluntary  agent, 
which  has  the  nature  and  influence  of  a  motive  to  voli 
tion  or  choice,  is  considered  or  viewed  as  good"  i.  e., 
the  mind  perceives  or  judges  it  to  be  good.  And,  im 
mediately  after  the  above,  he  says :  "  I  use  the  term 
goody  namely,  as  of  the  same  import  with  agreeable  ;  " 
and  hence,  the  strongest  motive  is  that  which  appears 
most  agreeable,  as  he  thus  more  fully  states  :  "  But  if  it 
tends  to  draw  the  inclination  and  move  the  will,  it  must 
bk  under  the  notion  of  that  which  suits  the  mind.  And, 
therefore,  that  must  have  the  greatest  tendency  to  at 
tract  and  engage  it,  which,  as  it  stands  in  the  mind's 
view,  suits  it  best  and  pleases  it  most "  (p.  9).  The 
prevailing  motive  then,  is  that  which,  as  it  stands  in 
the  mind's  view,  suits  it  best  and  pleases  it  most.  But, 
"  a  being  pleased  with  "  is  the  phrase  which  he  uses 
(p.  2)  as  identical  with  "  an  act  of  will,"  and  which  he 
subsequently  identifies  with  choice  or  preference,  by 
saying,  "  it  will  not  appear  by  this  and  such  like  in 
stances,  that  there  is  any  difference  between  volition 
and  preference,  or  that  a  man's  choosing,  liking  best,  or 
being  lest  pleased  with  a  thing  are  not  the  same  with 
his  willing  that  thing"  and  by  many  other  expressions 
of  like  import.  So  that  this  strongest  motive,  or  "  that 
Ivhich  appears  most  inviting,  and  has,  by  what  appears 


MOTIVE.  361 

concerning  it  to  the  understanding  or  apprehension,  the 
greatest  degree  of  previous  tendency  to  excite  and 
induce  the  choice,"  must  be  that  motive  for  which  the 
mind  has  a  choice  or  preference  over  all  others,  and 
it  is  this  choice  or  preference  of  the  mind,  which  gives 
it  all  its  influence  or  tendency  to  move  the  will ;  but  as 
its  tendency  to  move  the  will  is  previous  to  the  act  of 
will,  or  choice,  or  preference,  we  have  the  choice,  or 
preference,  which  gives  this  previous  tendency,  not  only 
before  itself,  but  under  the  definition,  that  "  the  will " 
is  "  that  ty  which  the  mind  chooses  anything  "  (p.  1). 
We  have,  in  this  previous  tendency  of  the  motive,  a 
choice  before  that  by  which  the  mind  chooses  has  acted, 
which  is  absurd. 

These  results  follow  from  the  fact  that  the  terms  by 
which  Edwards  defines  "  the  previous  tendency  of  mo 
tive,"  are  the  same  as  those  by  which  he  designates 
choice  or  preference ;  and  if,  instead  of  seeking  the  re 
lation  of  the  things  in  the  substituted  terms  or  defini 
tions,  we  look  directly  to  the  things  themselves,  it 
seems  evident  that  nothing,  whatever,  has  any  influence 
to  move  the  mind  till  it  has  some  preference  or  choice 
for  it.  This  makes  the  previous  tendency  to  choice,  a 
choice  itself,  which,  by  Edwards's  hypothesis,  would  re 
quire  a  previous  tendency  or  choice  to  excite  it,  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum. 

This  difficulty  is  not  obviated  by  supposing  the  pre 
vious  tendency  of  the  motive  to  inhere  in  something 
which  is  extrinsic  to  the  mind,  for  it  is  not  a  motive  at 
all  until  it  is  in  the  mind's  view,  and  strongest  .motive 
is  still  that  which  in  the  mind's  view  suits  it  best ;  and, 
whether  it  be  in  the  mind's  view  itself,  or  in  the  object 
viewed,  it  can  exert  no  influence  until  the  mind  has 
16 


362       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

some  choice  or  preference  for  it,  which  still  makes  the 
choice  previous  to  the  act  of  will  or  choice,  and  before 
that  by  Which  the  mind  chooses  has  acted.  We  here 
again  observe  how  this,  the  main  argument  of  Edwards, 
is  made  fallacious  by  being  founded  on  the  two  incom 
patible  definitions  of  choice. 

In  the  unsettled  state  of  metaphysical  language,  it 
is,  perhaps,  allowable  for  a  writer  to  define  his  own 
terms,  and  even  in  some  instances,  like  the  mathema 
ticians,  to  bring  the  subjects  into  existence  by  the  defi 
nitions.  But,  in  such  cases,  he  must  not  involve  incom 
patible  conditions.  If  a  mathematician  should  say,  "  a 
triplogon  is  a  plane  rectilineal  figure  included  within 
three  sides  and  with  three  right  angles ; "  or  a  ma 
chinist  should  plan  a  flying  machine,  or  a  perpetual 
motion,  one  element  of  which  should  be  a  revolving 
wheel  with  a  weight  on  one  side  just  equal  to  one  on 
the  other,  but  that  on  the  other  a  little  heavier  than  it ; 
though  one  might  reason  ingeniously  and  even  correctly 
upon  such  hypotheses,  yet  no  practical  result,  ilo  new 
reality,  could  be  evolved  from  it ;  and  so,  if  motive,  by 
the  definition  of  it,  is  that  which  is  before  itself,  or  that 
which  comes  into  being  before  the  existence  of  that 
which  gives  it  being,  however  subtle  the  reasoning  upon 
it,  no  practical  result,  no  solution  of  any  question  of 
realities,  can  be  evolved  from  it.  All  reasoning  from 
such  hypotheses  must  take  this  form  :  "  If  a  triplogon 
is  contained  by  three  sides,  and  has  three  right  angles, 
then  some  quadrilaterals  must  have  four  sideg  and  six 
right  angles  ;  "  and,  though  this  should  be  shown  to  be 
a  logical  consequence,  the  truth  of  it  would  still  depend 
upon  the  possible  existence  of  such  a  figure  as  a  "  triplo 
gon  "  has  been  defined  to  be. 


MOTIVE.  363 

"We  before  had  occasion  to  show  that,  in  Edwards's 
system,  there  is  no  room  for  anything  between  a  state 
of  indifference — a  not  willing  or  choosing — and  the  act 
of  choice  or  will ;  and,  if  that  conclusion  was  correct, 
there  is  in  his  system  no  room  for  this  motive,  or  pre 
vious  tendency  of  motive,  between  total  indifference,  or 
not  choosing,  or  not  willing,  and  the  act  of  choosing  or 
willing ;  but,  as  appears  by  the  preceding  reasoning, 
the  motive,  or  the  previous  tendency  of  motive,  must 
itself  be  an  act  of  choice,  in  his  system  also  an  act  of 
will,  springing  directly  out  of  a  state  of  indifference. 

Beyond  all  these,  there  exists  the  same  difficulty  in 
regard  to  the  determining  power  of  motive,  which 
Edwards  finds  in  regard  to  the  will's  self-determining 
power.  In  his  system,  everything  must  have  an  ante 
cedent  cause ;  and  these  motives,  and  even  the  previous 
tendency  of  motives,  must  have  a  cause  as  much  as  the 
volitions  of  which  they  are  assumed  to  be  the  cause. 
If  we  pass  over  intelligence  in  willing,  as  a  first  cause 
of  its  own  volitions,  making  it  only  an  intermediate  link 
in  the  chain  of  causes,  and  effects,  we  never  come  to  a 
beginning  or  first  cause. 

This  difficulty  must  attach  to  every  system,  which 
does  not  recognize  some  self-moving  power,  or  cause, 
and  which,  as  it  cannot  be  in  matter,  must  be  in  spirit. 
Edwards,  in  fact,  assumes  tfrat  motive  is  a  first,  self- 
acting  cause ;  this  denies  that  every  act  is  necessarily 
controlled  by  some  cause  in  the  past,  which  is  an  indig- 
pensable  link  in  his  argument  for  necessity.  If  this 
motive  is  the  intelligence  that  acts,  if  the  mind  itself  is 
the  motive,  or  cause  of  its  volitions,  then  his  argument 
really  asserts  the  freedom  of  the  mind  in  willing. 


CHAPTEE  XI, 

C'AUSE     AND     EFFECT. 

IT  will  be  observed  that  tlie  argument  of  Edwards, 
in  favor  of  necessity,  rests  mainly  upon  the  assumption 
that  the  same  causes,  OF  NECESSITY,  produce  the  same 
effects  /  I  say  of  necessity,  for  if  the  relation  of  effect  to 
cause  be  not  one  of  necessity,  no  necessity  of  the  effect 
can  be  inferred  from  the  relation.  If  the  motive  is  the 
cause  of  the  act  of  choice  or  volition,  and  the  particu 
lar  act  of  choice  or  volition,  is  not  a  necessary  effect  of 
its  cause,  but  some  other  volition  might  have  ensued^ 
then,  there  is  nothing  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect 
upon  which  to  predicate  necessity  in  the  act  of  choice 
or  volition ;  so  that  the  whole  force  of  this  argument 
rests  upon  the  hypothesis,  that  the  relation  of  effect  to 
cause  is  one  of  necessity. 

That  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce  the  same 
effects  must  mean  that,  if  the  same  causes  occur,  or  are 
repeated  in  action  any  number  of  times,  the  same  cor 
responding  effect  will  occur,  or  be  repeated  each  time. 
If  the  same  cause  never  occurred,  or  acted  twice,  there 
could  be  no  occasion  for  the  rule — nothing  to  which  it 
would  apply.  It  is  the  same,  then,  as  a  case  of  uniform- 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  365 

ity  of  cause  and  effect.  Now,  this  law  of  the  uniform 
ity  of  cause  and  effect  is  known  to  us  only  as  an  em 
pirical  law  growing  out  of  our  observation  of  the  suc 
cession  of  changes  in  matter,  and  these  changes,  as  we 
have  already  shown,  must  be  controlled  wholly,  or 
mostly,  by  a  creative  intelligence — by  the  will  of  an. in 
telligent  being.  The  law  of  uniformity  in  these  changes 
of  matter,*  then,  must  depend  upon  the  will  of  this  in 
telligent  being.  The  acts  of  the  finite  intelligence 
in  producing  these  changes  are  but  infinitesimal,  and 
hence,  even  if  there  were  no  other  reason,  may  be  left 
out  of  view,  and  the  control  of  the  changes  in  the  mate 
rial  universe  be  ascribed  directly  to  the  will  of  the  Su 
preme  Intelligence.  "We  do  not  even  know  that  the 
movement  of  our  own  hand,  as  a  sequent  of  our  voli 
tion,  is  not  a  uniform  mode  of  God's  action,  and  not  by 
our  own  direct  agency.  The  law,  then,  that ,  in  the 
material  world  the  same  causes  produce  the  same 
effects,  is  deduced  from  our  observations  of  the  uniform 
ity  of  God's  action.  It  cannot  be  a  law  of  metaphys 
ical  necessity,  for  it  is  just  as  conceivable  that  He 
should  will  that  the  same  set  of  circumstances  should  be 
followed  by  different  consequences  every  time  they  oc 
curred,  as  that  He  should  will  the  same  consequences 
with  every  such  recurrence.  There  is  no  causal  power 
in  the  fact  that  the  cause  has  before  acted,  or  that  the 
same  circumstances  have  before  occurred.  Excluding 
such  cases  as  involve  contradiction,  and  which,  of 
course,  even  Infinite  Power  cannot  control  or  affect, 
there  is  no  reason  to  presume  that  the  law  goes  any  far 
ther  than  is  indicated  by  our  observations  of  the  facts. 
"We  do  not  know  that  the  changes  in  winds  or  weather, 
are  subject  to  any  such  uniformity ;  they  may,  in  every 
*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLY. 


366  REVIEW   OF  EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

individual  case,  be  effected  by  the  will  of  God  acting 
without  reference  to  any  uniformity.  Even  if  in  such 
cases  we  find  that  an  effect  is  uniformly  preceded  by  a 
limited  series  of  antecedents,  it  does  not  follow  that  this 
series  is  a  part  of  one  which  is  infinite.  It  may  be  iso 
lated,  and  be  in  fact  but"  God's  uniform  mode  of  doing 
that  particular  thing,  and  may  have  no  uniform  con 
nection  with  any  prior  antecedents.  To  suppose  all  the 
events  to  be  either  necessary  terms  of  an  infinite  series 
following  each  other  in  a  necessary  order,  or  even  in 
a  pre-ordained  order,  would  leave  no  room  for  the  con 
tinued  exercise  of  God's  designing  power,  and,  as  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  note  more  particularly  hereafter, 
would  deprive  Him  of  the  highest  attribute  of  Creative 
Intelligence. 

In  regard  to  matter,  then,  this  uniformity  of  cause 
and  effect,  so  far  as  it  goes,  is  not  a  necessary  but  an 
arbitrary  law,  which  the  Supreme  Intelligence  has 
adopted  for  His  own  government  in  the  management 
of-  matter,  and  which  our  observation  of  His  modes  of 
action  in  the  material  world  has  revealed  to  us.  There 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  He  makes  such  laws  for 
His  own  action  in  all  cases — as  in  changes  of  the 
weather,  for  instance — or,  that  He  may  not  vary  from 
the  law  of  uniformity,  which  appears  to  us  to  be  estab 
lished,  and  thus  produce  what  we  call  miracles. 

That  He  is  all- wise  and  omniscient  obviates  the  ne 
cessity  of  trying  experiments  to  which  finite  intelli 
gences  are  subject,  for  he  must  be  able  to  preconceive 
the  results,  and,  by  a  comparison  of  these  preconcep 
tions,  to  determine  the  best  modes  of  action  in  any  cir 
cumstances  without  continually  trying  different  modes ; 
and  knowing  the  best  mode,  will,  of  course,  adopt  it  in 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  367 

a  recurrence  of  the  same  circumstances,  unless  from 
some  cause,  the  gain  of  variety  makes  the  new  mode 
of  action,  with  such  variety,  better  than  the  old  one 
without  it. 

When  in  natural  phenomena  we  seek  to  general 
ize  existing  facts,  or  the  succession  of  events,  we  do 
not  really  seek  the  consequences  of  any  necessity  in 
the  same  causes  to  produce  the  same  effects,  but  the 
consequences  of  God's  uniform  action.  If  we  find  in 
the  premises  no  evidence  of  such  uniformity  in  His 
action,  our  knowledge  will  be  limited  to  particular  facts 
in  the  past. 

In  regard  to  the  finite  mind,  observation  does  not 
indicate  any  such  law  of  uniformity,  or  necessity  of 
cause  and  effect,  for,  it  is  impossible  to  predict,  with 
certainty,  what  the  action  of  mind  under  any  cir 
cumstances  will  be;  nor,  from  the  act,  can  we  deter 
mine  the  cause  or  reason  of  the  act,  which,  in  one  man, 
may  be  the  gratification  of  his  want  to  do  good  to 
others,  while  another  man,  under  the  same  apparent 
circumstances,  does  the  same  act  because  he  perceives 
that  he  will  eventually  thereby  be  enabled  to  infiict 
great  injury  on  others.  The  fact  that  we  cannot,  with 
certainty,  predict  what  the  future  action  of  any  mind 
will  be  under  any  antecedents,  and  conversely,  from 
the  action,  cannot,  with  certainty,  tell  the  antecedents, 
shows  that  there  is  no  observable  or  known  uniformity 
in  the  relation  of  this  action  of  the  mind  to  whatever 
the  antecedents  of  its  action -may  be.  It  may  be  said, 
that  this  is  because  we  cannot  take  into  view  all  the 
circumstances ;  but,  if  so,  this  not  only  proves  that  we 
have  no  experience  proving  the  rule,  but  that  we  can 
not  have  any  such  experience,  and  such  assertion  would 


368       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

thus  weaken  the  position  it  is  intended  to  support.  So 
far  as  we  have  opportunities  for  observing  the  action  of 
mind  under  similar  circumstances,  the  fact  seems  to  be 
that,  not  only  do  different  minds  act  very  differently, 
but  that  the  same  mind  sometimes  changes  even  its 
habits  and  modes  of  action  very  suddenly  and  unex 
pectedly  ;  and  hence  observation  reveals  no  rule  of 
uniformity  of  cause  and  effect  which  is  of  necessity  ap 
plicable  to  mind.  Edwards  says : 

"  I  might  further  observe,  the  state  of  the  mind 
that  views  a  proposed  object  of  choice,  is  another  thing 
that  contributes  to  the  agreeableness,  or  disagreeable- 
ness  of  that  object;  the  particular  temper  which  the 
mind  has  by  nature,  or  that  has  been  introduced  and 
established  by  education,  example,  custom,  or  some 
other  means  ;  or  the  frame  or  state  that  the  mind  is  in 
on  a  particular  occasion.  That  object  which  appears 
agreeable  to  one,  does  not  so  to  another.  And  the  same 
object  does  not  always  appear  alike  agreeable  to  the 
same  person  at  different  times.  It  is  most  agreeable  to 
some  men  to  follow  their  reason,  and  to  others  to  follow 
their  appetites ;  to  some  men  it  is  more  agreeable  to 
deny  a  vicious  inclination,  than  to  gratify  it ;  others  it 
suits  best  to  gratify  the  vilest  appetites.  It  is  more 
disagreeable  to  some  men  than  others  to  counteract  a 
former  resolution.  In  these  respects,  and  many  others 
which  might  be  mentioned,  different  things  will  be 
most  agreeable  to  different  persons ;  and  not  only  so, 
but  to  the  same  persons  at  different  times  "  (p.  14). 

But,  if  these  "  objects  of  choice  "  in  "  the  mind  that 
views,"  and  which  he  treats  as  motives,  produce  such 
different  effects  on  different  minds,  and,  also,  on  the 
same  mind  at  different  times,  where  is  the  evidence  of 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  369 

this  uniformity,  or  of  this  necessity  of  the  effect  of  these 
motives  as  cause  of  the  volitions  ?  which  is  the  very 
foundation  of  his  argument  upon  motives,  as  already 
shown  in  the  quotation  from  him  (p.  116). 

It  may  be  said  that,  in  such  cases,  though  all  extrin 
sic  circumstances  are  the  same,  some  change  in  the 
mind  varies  it  as  a  cause.  I  will  consider  this  point  of 
identity,  in  its  effect  on  the  argument,  hereafter,  and, 
for  the  present,  will  only  remark  that  in  such  cases  it 
must  be  the  charged  mind,  which  is  really  the  efficient 
cause  of  the  variation  in  the  effect,  and  that,  if  the  rule 
does  not  apply  to  two  minds  acting  under  the  same 
circumstances  because  they  are  not  the  same  cause,  nor 
yet  to  the  same  mind,  acting  a  second  time  with  all 
other  circumstances  the  same,  except  such  as  of  neces 
sity  arise  from  its  being  a  second  and  not  a  first  time, 
no  possible  case  can  arise  for  the  application  of  the 
rule  to  mind.  • 

If,  as  at  least  appears  probable,  spirit  is  the  only 
real  cause,  and  postulating  that  the  finite  mind  is  not 
co-eternal  with  the  Infinite,  there  was  a  time  when  only 
one  cause  -existed ;  and  if  the  same  causes  necessarily 
produce  the  same  effects,  this  one  cause  never  could  have 
produced  but  one  effect,  or,  at  farthest,  but  duplications 
of  the  same  effect.  If  it  be  said  that  the  fact  of  this 
cause  having  once  acted  and  produced  one  effect,  makes 
such  a  variation  of  the  circumstances  under  which  it 
acts,  that  its  subsequent  action  may  differ  from  the 
first  merely  from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  second,  and  not 
the  first  causative  action ;  then,  we  say  that  this  en 
tirely  destroys  the  rule  and  makes  it  a  nullity ;  for  the 
same  cause  cannot  act  a  second  time,  without  having 
acted  a  first ;  and  if,  from  the  fact  of  its  having  acted 
16* 


370  REVIEW   OF  EDWAEDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

once,  the  effect  of  the  second  act  may  be  different,  there 
can  be  no  such  necessary  uniformity  of  effect  as  the 
law  supposes. 

There  must  be  something  to  determine  if  there  shall 
be  a  difference  between  the  effect  of  the  first  and 
second  action,  and,  if  so,  what  difference.  That  differ 
ence  in  circumstances,  which  has  arisen  from  the  cause 
having  once  acted,  cannot  itself  determine  the  different 
action  the  second  time. 

We  have  already  shown  that  the  mere  existence  of 
the  thing  created  cannot  influence  the  mind  that  created 
it,  except  as  a  circumstance  to  be  considered  by  it  in 
determining  its  next  creative  act,  and  as,  by  the  hy 
pothesis,  there  is  nothing  else  in  existence  when  this 
second  action  is  to  be  determined,  it  must  be  deter 
mined  by  the  cause — by  the  Infinite  Mind — in  view  of 
the  result  of  its  first  action,  and  of  what  it  wants  to  do 
in  the  future ;  and  hence,  as  before  shown,  the  Infinite 
Intelligence  is  not  only  an  originating  creative  cause, 
but,  in  virtue  of  its  intelligence,  can  produce  different 
effects  by  successive  acts  of  volition,,  and  determine 
what  the  difference  in  each  of  these  successive  acts 
shall  be. 

If  we  suppose  all  material  creation  to  be  the  one 
effect  of  the  first  action  of  the  First  Cause,  then,  under 
this  rule  of  uniformity  of  cause  and  effect,  that  cause 
must  have  then  become  dormant ;  and  as,  whether  that 
creation  be  the  imagery — the  conceptions — of  the  mind 
of  Grod  made  directly  palpable,  or  His  ordering  of  mat 
ter  conformably  to  His  conceptions,  it  cannot  change 
itself,  or  be  governed  or  changed  by  law  impressed 
upon  it,  it  must,  so  far  as  Creator  and  creation  are  con 
cerned,  remain  fixed  without  change  ;  for  any  subse- 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  371 

quent  change  would  be  another  and  different  effect  pro 
duced  by  the  same  cause,  which  is  contrary  to  the  as 
sumed  law,  that  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce 
the  same  effects,  and  hence,  if  this  law  be  true,  the  first 
effort  of  the  First  Cause  would  destroy  itself  as  cause, 
leaving  no  room  or  possibility  for  its  future  activity  in 
new  and  different  creations,  or  in  changing  what  it  had 
first  created. 

But  there  is  change — change  in  our  sensations,  if  in 
nothing  else  ;  changes  we  do  not  produce  by  any  action 
of  our  own,  and  hence,  we  must  infer  the  continued  ex 
istence  of  some  other  power  as  cause,  producing  these 
changes. 

If  the,  same  cause  must  necessarily  produce  the 
same  effects,  the  effects  must  be  co-existent  with  the 
cause ;  for  if  the  cause  can  exist  without  immediately 
producing  the  effect,  it  may  exist  any  length  of  time, 
and  even  forever,  without  the  effect,  and  the  effect 
would  not  be  a  necessary  effect  of  such  a  cause  ;  and, 
in  this  view,  the  First  Cause,  if  the  subject  of  such  a 
necessity  of  effect,  must  have  immediately  exhausted 
its  creative  or  causative  power  in  a  necessary  effect. 

If, 'to  obtain  a  continuing  causative  power,  and  yet 
retain  the  law  of  necessity^  in  cause  and  effect,  we  sup 
pose  the  effect  of  the  first  cause  to  have  been  the  crea 
tion  of  other  cause,  then,  this  other  cause,  too,  must 
have  immediately  produced  all  its  necessary  effects ; 
and  so  of  any  number  of  duplicate  causes,  and  there 
would  be  an  end  of  the  power  to  produce  changes,  all, 
being  simultaneous,  would  have  no  existence  in  time, 
and  no  subsequent  changes  could  be  produced.  So 
that  the  application  of  this  rule  to  intelligence  as  cause, 
denies  any  continuing  power  to  produce  changes  in  the 


372       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

universe  ;  which,  being  contrary  to  the  fact,  proves  the 
rule  untrue,  and  shows  the  necessity  and  the  fact  of 
the  existence  of  a  cause  which  is  not  subject  to  this  law 
of  necessity,  or  of  uniformity  of  effects,  but  which  has 
a  faculty  of  producing  different  effects,  or,  at  least,  so 
far  adapting  itself  to  circumstances,  that,  from  the  fact 
that  it  has  once  exerted  its  causative  power,  and  pro 
duced  an  effect,  it  may,  by  a  subsequent  exertion,  pro 
duce  a  different  effect.  This  freedom  must  be  an  at 
tribute  of  the  Infinite  Intelligence,  and  "  uniformity  of 
cause  and  effect  "  in  regard  to  It,  means  nothing  more 
than  the  uniform  modes  of  willing,  or  the  modes  which 
It  voluntarily  adopts  for  Its  own  government ;  which  is 
but  an  expression  of  Its  freedom  ;  for  this  is  controlling 
Its  own  action  ;  and  that  It  does  this  in  conformity  to  a 
law  of  Its  own  creation,  or  which  It  voluntarily  adopts, 
cannot  lessen  this  freedom. 

"With  regard  to  the  finite  mind,  experience  indicates 
that,  after  having,  under  any  given  circumstances,  acted 
in  one  way,  it  may,  on  a  recurrence  of  them,  elect,  and 
frequently  does  elect,  to  try  another  way;  the  fact 
that  it  has  already  tried  one  way  with  certain  effects, 
having,  by  increasing  its  knowledge,  led  to  a  belief 
that  some  other  way  may  be  productive  of  more  desira 
ble  effects,  or,  at  least,  again  add  to  its  knowledge  by 
practical  experience  in  the  new  mode.  It  is  enabled  to 
design  or  conceive  these  new  modes  of  action,  to  ex 
amine  and  judge  of  their  expediency,  and  to  execute 
them  in  virtue  of  its  being  intelligent,  originating 
cause,  with  a  faculty  of  adapting  its  action  to  its  view 
of  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  placed,  and  by 
which  it  is  surrounded,  which  itself  only  can  do. 

It  may  be  said,  that  this  change  in  the  view,  or 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  373 

knowledge  and  want  of  the  mind,  makes  it,  in  fact,  a 
different  cause.  This  is  merely  a  question  of  identity, 
which  it  is  useless  now  to  discuss,  further  than  to  say 
that,  if  it  be  the  same  cause,  producing  different  effects, 
it  disproves  the  rule ;  and  if  it  be  a  different  cause,  it 
cannot  logically  be  inferred  from  different  causes  pro 
ducing  different  effects,  that  the  same  causes  must  pro 
duce  the  same  effects.  I  may,  however,  further  ob 
serve,  that  this  difference  in  the  mind's  knowledge  in 
the  second  case,  grows  directly  out  of  its  experience  in 
the  first ;  and  if,  as  a  consequence  of  intelligent  cause 
or  causes  having  once  acted,  their  recurring  action  may 
be  different,  the  rule  as  to  them  becomes  a  nullity  ;  for 
there  is  then  no  necessity  that  the  subsequent  action  of 
the  same  causes  shall  produce  the  same  effect  as  they  did 
when  they  first  acted.  If  it  be  said,  in  asserting  this 
necessary  uniformity,  the  phrase  a  same  causes "  in 
cludes  not  only  the  efficient,  or  active  power,  but  all 
the  co-existing  objects  and  circumstances  having  any 
relation  whatever  to  the  action  of  this  power,  still  the 
rule  can  then  never  have  any  application  to  intelligent 
beings  acting  as  cause,  for  in  mind  the  same  circum 
stances  cannot  thus  occur  twice,  because,  to  it,  the  fact 
of  having  occurred  a  first  time,  itself  makes  a  differ 
ence  in  the  second.  It  varies  the  knowledge,  which  is 
one  of  its  essential  elements  as  cause.  The  nearest  ap 
proach  to  it  is  when  the  mind  has  forgotten  that  they 
have  before  occurred.  In  such  cases  we  determine  as 
if  they  never  had  before  occurred,  and  the  common  ex 
perience  is  that  we  sometimes  realize  afterward  that, 
from  not  recalling  their  previous  occurrence,  we,  in  the 
second  case,  acted  differently  without  being  aware  of 
it,  and  when,  but  for  this  forgetting,  we  probably 
would  have  repeated  the  first  action. 


374  KEVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

This  cause  and  effect,  as  used  by  Edwards,  involves 
the  infinite  series,  which  he  so  often  introduces -into 
his  arguments.  If  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce 
the  same  effects,  and  everything  which  begins  to  ~be 
must  have  a  cause,  then  this  new  event,  this  beginning 
to  be,  must  arise  from  some  change  in  the  operating 
causes,  otherwise  no  new  effect  could  be  produced ; 
but  this  change  in  the  operating  causes  is  an  event 
which  must  also  have  a  cause,  and  which,  in  its  begin 
ning,  must  have  arisen  from  some  change  in  the  operat 
ing  cause  of  it,  which  change,  again,  must  have  had  a 
cause  ;  and  so  we  have  a  series,  which  can  have  no  be 
ginning  unless  there  was  either  an  event  without  a 
cause,  or  a  different  effect  from  the  same  unchanged 
cause.  If,  to  avoid  this  dilemma,  we  suppose  .the  series 
traced  back  to  a  necessary  self-existent  cause,  which 
had  no  beginning,  it  may  be  replied,  that  such  cause, 
existing  from  eternity,  if  acting  from  necessity,  must, 
of  necessity,  have  produced  its  proper  effect  an  eternity 
ago,  and  could  produce  no  other  and  new  effect,  except 
by  some  subsequent  changes  in  itself,  which  it  would 
have  no  power  to  produce  ;  for  this  would  be  a  different 
effect  of  the  same  cause,  and  hence,  we  are  compelled  to 
infer  a  cause  which  has  either  the  power  of  changing  it 
self  as  cause,  or  of  varying  its  effects  while  it  remains 
the  same  cause.  It  may  be  said  that,  before  this  cause 
produces  a  different  effect,  it  changes  itself,  either  by 
direct  action,  or  by  producing  an  effect,  which  reacts 
and  becomes  cause  of  change  in  its  own  cause ;  but 
even  then,  as  the  changed  cause  would  be  a  different 
cause,  one,  as  before  observed,  could  not  argue  from 
different  causes  producing  different  effects  that  the 
same  causes  must  produce  the  same  effects  ;  and,  even 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  375 

if  we  could,  if  the  creative  and  created  cause  act  only 
from  necessity,  all  their  effects  must  be  coexistent  with 
their  existence,  and  all  their  causative  power  be  in 
stantaneously  exhausted ;  so  that,  to  continue  effects  in 
time,  there  must  be  some  cause  which  does  not,  of 
necessity,  produce  only  one  particular  effect,  but  can 
delay  action,  and  when  it  does  act  can  produce  different 
effects. 

We  have  no  reason,  then,  either  from  experience 
or  from  the  nature  of  things,  to  suppose  that  any  such 
law  of  uniformity  is  applicable  to  spirit  causes,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  as  already  stated,  actual  existences,  or 
changes  in  them,  at  least,  in  our  own  sensations,  prove 
that  there  is  now,  or  must  have  been  some  cause,  which 
did  not  of  necessity  produce  the  same  effect ;  and  the 
existence  of  such  a  cause,  either  in  the  past  or  present, 
would  disprove  the  rule  of  necessary  uniformity. 

I  have  endeavored  to  show  that  we  have  such  causes 
in  intelligent  beings, — infinite  and  finite — with  origi 
nating,  creative  power ;  causes,  which,  from  the  very 
fact  of  having  already  produced  one  effect,  are  better 
prepared  to  go  on  to  produce  other  and  different  effects, 
and  that,  but  for  this  versatility,  only  one  effect  ever 
could  have  been  produced. 

An  effect  cannot  be  till  its  cause  exists  ;  but  it  does 
not  follow  that  cause  must'  be  before  its  effect.  That 
which  may  become  cause  may,  and,  as  in  the  case  of 
intelligent  being,  generally  does  exist,  before  by  activi 
ty  it  becomes  cause.  If  matter  exists  in  a  state  of  rest, 
it  too  must  have  activity,  motion,  imparted  to  it  before 
it  becomes  cause.  At  the  same  instant,  however,  that 
a  sufficient  cause  begins  to  act,  its  effect  must  also  begin 
to  be,  and  if  that  which  may  be  cause,  or  in  which 


376       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

power  may  be  said  to  subsist,  begins  to  act  at  the  in 
stant  in  which  it  comes  into  existence,  its  effect  must  be 
simultaneous  with  its  existence ;  for,  as  before  observed, 
if  the  effect  can  be  delayed  one  instant,  it  may  another, 
and  another,  and  so  may  never  be,  which  is  to  say 
that  the  sufficient  cause  is  not  a  sufficient  cause.  As 
used  in  my  argument,  however,  it  is  only  essential  to 
predicate  this  co-existence  of  effect  with  a  necessary 
cause. 

If  we  suppose  matter,  in  the  first  instance,  to  have 
been  quiescent,  then  all  changes  in  it  must  be  traceable 
to  an  intelligent  will ;  and,  if  we  suppose  matter  to 
have  been  in  motion  from  eternity,  and,  as  a  conse 
quence,  to  have  been  producing,  in  a  certain  order  of 
succession,  such  necessary  effects  as  arise  from  the  im 
possibility  of  two  bodies  occupying  the  same  space  ;  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  of  one  space  being  two  spaces ; 
then,  all  changes  from  this  certain  order  must,  also,  be 
referred  to  an  intelligent  will. 

In  tracing  the  connection  we  are  but  tracing  the 
last  effect  back  to  an  intelligent  cause — in  most  in 
stances  to  the  will  of  God  as  a  first  cause.  We  cannot 
often,  if  ever,  tell  how  many  terms  there  may  be  in  the 
series.  For  aught  we  know,  gravitation  may  be  the 
immediate  will  of  Grod,  acting  in  conformity  to  a  uni 
form  law,  which  He  has  voluntarily  adopted,  and  which 
we  have  ascertained,  while  the  changes  in  the  weather 
may  be  immediately  determined  by  His  will,  acting 
either  without  uniformity,  or  in  conformity  to  some 
law  which  we  have  not  ascertained. 

The  present  conditions  may  be  different  from  any 
which  ever  before  existed,  and  hence  different  from  any 
which  ever  before  attended  or  preceded  either  a  clear 


CAUSE   AND   EFFECT.  377 

or  a  cloudy  sky,  and  yet  either  a  clear  or  a  cloudy  sky 
will  attend  or  follow  them. 

Some  of  these  things  may  have  been  made  not 
uniform  to  vary  the  problems  of  life,  and  develop  the 
finite  intelligence  in  their  solution,  as  the  concealment 
of  his  plans,  by  one  player  at  chess,  makes  a  necessity 
for  more  thought,  care  and  vigilance  in  the  other,  to 
provide  for  an  unascertained  amount  of  variability  in 
his  move.  It  is  true,  that  the  same  intention  might  be 
fulfilled  by  concealing  the  law  ;  but  greater  variety  in 
the  problems  is  Obtained  by  using  both  means,  stimu 
lating  the  human  intellect  to  discover  the  law  and  thus 
get  power  to  foreknow  events  arising  under  it ;  and, 
also,  forever  tasking  it  to  provide  for  certain  contingen 
cies,  which  it  never  can  thus  learn  certainly  to  an 
ticipate. 

There  is  no  more  difficulty  in  supposing  the  finite 
intelligence  to  be  a  first,  or  originating  cause  of  change 
in  its  finite  sphere  of  action,  than  in  supposing  the  Su 
preme  Intelligence  to  be  first  cause  in  the  sphere  of  the 
Infinite.  Intelligence,  in  all  degrees,  may  possess  the 
faculty  of  adapting  itself  to  that  change  of  circumstan 
ces,  which -itself  has  produced  by  causing  an  effect,  and 
go  on  to  produce  another  and  different  effect ;  and  this 
entirely  destroys  the  rule  of  necessary  uniformity  of 
cause  and  effect  as  applicable  to  intelligent  cause  ;  for, 
if  such  cause,  in  consequence  of  having  produced  one 
effect,  may,  from  that  very  circumstance,  produce  a 
different  effect,  no  case  can  possibly  arise  in  which  the 
same  intelligent  cause  MUST  produce  the  same  effect. 

"Without  such  power  of  adaptation  to  the  changes 
which  itself  has  wrought,  the  First  Intelligent  Cause 
must  forever  have  thought  the  same  thought,  or  per- 


378  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

formed  the  same  action  over  and  over ;  and,  if  the 
effect  of  that  action  was  the  creation  of  a  finite  intelli 
gence  with  one  or  more  thoughts,  then,  every  other 
effect  must  also  have  been  the  creation  of  a  finite  intel 
ligence,  like  the  first,  with  only  the  same  thought. 
But,  if  it  be  a  characteristic  of  intelligence  that,  through 
its  constitutional  want  for  activity,  or  more  directly,  its 
want  for  knowledge  and  its  intuitive  knowledge  of  the 
means  of  acquiring  it,  one  idea  is  but  the  precursor  of 
another  and  different  idea,  and  that  these  ideas,  singly 
or  accumulated,  are  the  means  by  ^vhich  the  mind 
adapts  its  action  to  the  want,  both  thoughts  and  muscu 
lar  movements,  internal  and  external  action,  may  be 
varied  without  any  other  effective  cause  than  the  intel 
ligence  itself,  which  wants,  thinks  and  acts,  and  which 
is  thus,  in  itself,  a  creative  first  cause. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  fact,  that  this  uni 
formity  of  the  action  of  Supreme  Intelligence,  as  ob 
served  in  many  cases,  may  arise  in  part  from  the  perfect 
wisdom  by  which  it  determines  its  acts  without  the 
necessity  of  experiment.  The  same  remark  applies  in 
some  degree  to  the  action  of  the  finite  will,  which,  with 
finite  wisdom,  knowing,  or  ascertaining  by  experience, 
or  otherwise,  the  best  modes  in  certain  cases,  will  adopt 
them,  whenever  such  cases  arise ;  and  this  gives  some 
appearance  of  reason  for  the  application  of  the  law  of 
uniformity  and  necessity  in  cause  and  effect  to  mind. 

It  appears  then,  that  a  certain  uniformity  of  the 
effect  of  intelligent  action,  on  which  the  argument  for 
necessity  is  based,  is,  or  at  least  may  be  caused  by  the 
free  action  of  intelligence,  infinite  or  finite  ;  and,  there 
fore,  from  the  existence  of  such  uniformity,  it  cannot  be 
inferred  that  no  such  free  action  exists.  The  existence 


CAUSE   AND   EFFECT.  379 

of  an  effect  cannot  be  a  reason  against  the  existence  of 
that  which  may  be  its  cause.  This  uniformity  could 
not  have  produced  itself,  nor  could  it  have  been  pro 
duced  by  blind,  undesigning  forces,  except  in  cases  when 
some  effect  must  be,  and  only  one  effect  is  possible ; 
i.  e.,  when  non-effect  and  also  any  other  than  one  par 
ticular  effect  involve  a  contradiction.*  We  must  refer 
this  uniformity,  in  all  other  cases,  to  the  action  of  intel 
ligence,  and  to  infer  from  it  necessity  in  the  action  of 
intelligence  is  to  make  the  effect  necessitate  its  own 
cause. 

If  the  action  of  the  mind  is  the  cause  of  the  volition, 
then,  as  before  observed,  that  the  volition,  as  an  effect 
of  such  action,  is  necessary,  does  not  prove  that  the 
ause — the  action  of  the  mind— is  necessary,  but  only 
proves  an  infallible  power  in  mind,  as  such  cause,  to 
determine  its  volitions. 

But  there  may  be  another  reason  for  this  uniformity 
in  the  mode  of  God's  action,  for,  as  the  finite  mind  acts 
more  or  less  through  His  modes,  or  is  influenced  in  its 
action  by  what  it  presumes  His  action  under  certain  cir 
cumstances  will  be,  this  uniformity  of  action  in  Him  is 
essential  to  the  action  of  finite  intelligence — to  the  exist 
ence  of  finite  free  agents — for,  without  this  uniformity 
in  God's  action,  a  finite  agent  could  have  no  knowledge 
as  to  what  would  be  the  effect  of  his  effort,  and  would 
have  no  inducement  to  make  any  effort.  If,  for  in 
stance,  an  effort  to  move  a  heavy  body  one  way  was 
just  as  likely  to  move  it  in  a  way  not  intended  and 
counter  to  the  want  of  the  agent,  the  effort  would  never 
be  made.  .v-, 

We  cannot- conceive  that  the  Supreme  Intelligence 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLYI. 


380       EEVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

acts,  except  from  a  want  of  change  of  some  kind — a 
desire  for  variety — and  this  desire,  of  itself,  would  seem 
to  be  best  gratified  or  accomplished  by  making  every 
act  a  new  variety,  rather  than  in  conformity  to  some 
previous  act.  That  God  has  not  done  so,  but,  in  many 
cases,  adopted  the  rule  of  uniformity  of  action,  seems  to 
indicate  a  design,  which  was  incompatible  with  the 
variety  just  suggested,  and  which  is  not  only  consistent 
with,  but  necessary  to,  the  existence  of  finite  agents 
freely  exercising  the  finite  creative  power  of  will ;  and 
in  this  uniformity,  then,  instead  of  the  argument  which 
Edwards  deduces  from  it  in  favor  of  necessity,  we  have 
an  argument  from  final  causes  in  favor  of  the  freedom 
of  the  finite  mind  in  its  acting  or  willing. 

Before  closing  this  chapter,  I  will  notice  an  argu 
ment  derived  from  the  supposed  law^of  uniformity  in 
cause  and  effect,  in  connection  with  the  influence  of  cir 
cumstances,  which  has  been  thus  stated. 

If  the  same  circumstances  occur  a  thousand  times, 
and  the  state  of  the  mind  is  the  same,  its  action  will  be 
the  same,  and  hence,  necessary  under  the  circum 
stances. 

This  is  but  a  particular  application  of  the  general 
rule,  that  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce  the  same 
effects  ;  which,  we  have  already  shown,  is  not  a  law  of 
metaphysical  necessity,  and  that  there  is  no  reason  to 
presume  that  it  applies  to  mind.  The  fact  that  all  the 
circumstances  have  before  occurred,  including  the  con 
dition  of  the  mind,  is  involved  in  the  statement;. and 
this  fact  making  itself  an  alteration  in  the  repetition 
of  them,  the  mind  may,  from  that  circumstance,  elect 
to  vary  its  action.  If  so,  as  before  shown,  this  destroys 
the  rule,  and  the  inference  which  is  based  upon  it. 


CAUSE  AND   EFFECT.  381 

But  admit,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  that  this 
law  does  apply  to  mind,  and  further,  that  in  every  one 
of  the  thousand  cases,  one  of  the  conditions  of  the  mind 
is  that  of  necessity ;  then,  the  same  causes  necessarily 
producing  the  same  effects,  the  action  of  the  mind  is  the 
same.  Again,  suppose  that,  in  every  one  of  the  thou 
sand  cases,  the  condition  of  the  mind  is  that  of  freedom  ; 
then,  under  the  same  law  of  the  uniformity  of  causes 
and  effects,  the  action  of  the  mind  would  still  be  the 
same  in  each  of  these  thousand  cases  ;  and,  as  we  may 
thus  change  this  condition  of  the  mind  from  necessity 
to  freedom,  without  changing  the  result,  the  result  can 
not  possibly  indicate  which  of  the  two  elements  was 
involved  ;  or,  in  other  words,  admitting  the  fact  and  the 
application  of  the  law,  it  applies  just  as  well  to  mind 
controlling  and  ^directing  its  own  volitions,  as  to  mind 
in  which  the  volitions  are  controlled  and  directed  by 
some  external  power.  If,  in  every  one  of  the  thousand 
cases,  the  .action  of  the  mind  is  the  same,  it  can,  so  far 
as  this  case  is  concerned,  just  as  well  be  so  because  it 
acts  freely  a,s  because  it  acts  from  necessity  ;  and  hence, 
even  admitting  the  law  on  which  the  argument  is 
wholly  based,  and  that  it  does  apply  to  mind,  it  has  no 
force  whatever,  and  cannot  even  indicate  whether,  in 
each  of  the  thousand  cases,  the  condition  of  the  mind's 
action  is  that  of  necessity  or  freedom. 

Admitting  that,  in  every  one  of  the  thousand  cases, 
the  mind,  even  by  preliminary  effort,  or  by  immediate 
perception,  comes  to  the  same  conclusion  .as  to  what  to 
do — that,  the  truth  being  palpable,  it  cannot  but  per 
ceive  it — still  this  perception  is  not  the  act  of  will,  but 
knowledge  preparatory  to  it ;  and  if,  with  this  conclu 
sion  or  knowledge  as  to  what  -to  do,  it  were  found  try- 


382  KEVIEW   OF  EDWAEDS   O1T  THE   WILL. 

ing  to  do  something  else,  this  would  indicate  that  the 
mind  was  not  free,  but  constrained  by  some  extrinsic 
power  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  its  trying  to  do  that 
which  is  in  conformity  with  its  knowledge  indicates  self- 
direction  of  its  power  and  consequently  freedom  in  the 
effort  or  act  of  will.  It  would  be  a  strange  and  contra 
dictory  idea  of  freedom,  which  would  require,  for  its 
realization,  that  a  man  might  try  to  do  what  he  de 
cided  not  to  'do,  and  might  not  try  to  do  that  which 
he  decided  to  do,  and  thus  act  contrary  to  his  own 
views. 

The  fallacy  of  the  argument  from  the  "  thousand 
cases  "  lies  in  supposing  that,  after  the  mind  has,  by  a 
decision  or  judgment,  directed  its  volition  or  effort, 
freedom  still  requires  that  some  other  volition  or  effort 
should  be  possible ;  which,  were  it  so,  would  really  show 
that  the  mind -might  not  be  free  ;  that  is,  that  it  might 
not  direct  its  own  action.  The  assertion  "  if  the  same 
circumstances  occur  a  thousand  times,"  &c.,  must  in 
clude  all  the  circumstances ;  if  we  stop  short  of  the 
knowledge  or  final  decision  of  the  mind  as  to  its  own 
action,  the  rule  will  be  found  to  have  no  application,  or 
to  be  untrue ;  and,  admitting  the  assertion,  it  then 
really  shows  only  that  the  willing  by  the  mind  is  al 
ways  in  conformity  to  its  own  decision  or  knowledge  as 
to  what  to  do.  If  there  is,  of  necessity,  a  connection 
between  this  decision  and  effort,  this  only  proves  that 
the  mind  is  of  necessity  free  in  such  effort ;  and  to 
assert  the  contrary,  is  again  like  saying  that  freedom  is 
not  free  because  it  is  of  necessity  free. 

This  view  brings  the  argument  home  to  our  defini 
tion  of  freedom,  as  that  condition  in  which  a  being 
directs  its  own  action  of  movement ;  while  that  argu- 


CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  383 

ment,  which,  from  this  necessity  of  connection  between 
the  decision  and  the  volition  of  a  being,  would  infer 
necessity,  must  assume  that  freedom  requires  that  a 
being  may  act  counter  to  itself — to  its  own  directing 
power. 


CHAPTER  XII.  , 

t          GOD'S    FOKEKNOWLEDGE. 

ANOTHER  argument  of  Edwards  is,  that  the  acts  of 
the  will  are  necessary  because  God  certainly  foreknows 
them ;  and  that,  what  is  foreknown  by  Omniscience 
must  as  certainly  happen  as  though  it  were  decreed  by 
Omnipotence,  and,  therefore,  such  acts  cannot  be  free. 
Against  this  it  has  been  contended  that,  even  though 
God  foreknows  every  event,  such  prescience  does  not 
cause  that  event,  or  control  the  act  of  will  which  is 
foreknown.  It  may  be  asserted,  with  some  show  of 
reason,  that  freedom  of  the  human  will  is  one  of  the 
elements  of  God's  foreknowledge  ;  that  He  knows  that 
such  or  such  an  event  will  happen,  because  it  depends 
on  the  foreseen  free  action  of  some  being,  without 
which  it  would  not  happen.  On  this  I  would  remark, 
that  it  does  not  fulfil  the  intention  of  those  who  urge 
it.  It  does  not  avoid  the  practical  difficulties  of 
fatalism. 

A  man  with  this  belief  might  say :  "I  need  not 
trouble  myself  with  regard  to  the  future.  Everything 
in  that  future,  even  my  own  agency  upon  it,  is  already 
as  certainly  determined  as  the  past.  No  effort  of  mine 


385 

can  change  it ;  or,  if  effort  or  volition  of  mine  is  to 
change  it,  that  effort,  that  volition,  will  inevitably  take 
place,  and  no  care  or  thought  of  mine  will  prevent  it." 
The  position  still  admits  that  necessity  which  it  is  in 
tended  to.  exclude.  With  such  belief  he  would  make  no 
effort.  When  a  man  wills  he  always  intends,  as  already 
shown,  to  produce  some  effect  in  the  future,  to  produce 
some  change,  or  to  make  that  future — internal  or  exter 
nal — in  some  respects  different  from  what  it  would  be 
without  such  effort.  But,  if  the  fact  is  that  no  effort  of 
his  can  in  any  way  change  that  future,  and  he  knows 
it,  he  will  not  will  at  all,  freely  or  otherwise.  As  just 
suggested,  it  may  be  said  that  his  free  act  of  will  is 
itself  one  of  the  events  infallibly  foreknown,  and  hence 
must  happen.  This,  it  will  be  perceived,  in  'the  last 
analysis,  involves  the  contradiction  of  supposing  a  free 
will  to  be  a  necessitated  will,  so  that  the  position  as 
sumed,  even  if  it  would  obviate  the  difficulty,  is  unten 
able,  and  cannot  be  urged  by  the  advocates  of  freedom 
against  this  argument  for  necessity.  An  event  fore-, 
known  by  infallible  prescience  must  be  as  certain  in  the 
future,  as  if  known  by  infallible  memory  in  the  past, 
and  to  say  that  God  foreknows  an  event,  which  depends 
upon  the  action  of  an  agent,  which,  acting  without  His 
control,  may,  of  itself,  freely  and  independently  produce 
any  one  of  several  different  results,  or  none  at  all,  in 
volves  a  contradiction.  I  am  disposed  to  yield  to  the 
argument  of  Edwards  all  the  benefit  of  any  doubt  on 
these  points,  and,  waiving  any  replication  which  might 
be  founded  on  the  power  of  God  to  influence  the  future 
free ,  action  of  a  finite  agent  by  imparting  or  withhold 
ing  knowledge,  to  admit  that  what  is  certainly  fore 
known  by  Omniscience  must  certainly  happen,  and 
17 


386  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

that,  if  God  foreknows  the  volitions  of  men,  then  they 
cannot  will  freely,  and  for  a  refutation  of  his  argument 
for  necessity,  founded  on  prescience,  rely  only  upon 
other  considerations.* 

One  essential  link  in  his  argument  is  that,  God  does 
foreknow  all  the  future,  and,  especially,  all  human  voli 
tions  ;  and  this  Edwards  attempts  to  prove  by  showing 
that  such  knowledge  is  absolutely  necessary  to  God's 
proper  government  of  the  world.  On  the  point  that 
God  does  foreknow,  I  would  remark  that,  as  in  regard 
to  the  argument  from  cause  and  effect,  it  appeared  that 
God,  having  the  power  to  produce  infinite  variety,  had 
yet  chosen  to  lessen  that  variety  by  establishing  a  cer 
tain  uniformity  between  antecedents  and  consequents, 
and  that  the  apparent  object  of  this  was  to  make  the 
existence  of  finite  free  agents  possible  ;  so,  also,  though 
God,  having  the  power  to  determine,  could  foreknow  all 
events,  He  may  forego  the  exercise  of  such  power,  and 
neither  control  nor  foreknow  the  particular  events,  which 
are  thus  left  to  be  determined  by  the  action  of  the 
human  mind.  That  God  may  certainly  foreknow  any 
event,  which  He  has  the  power  to  bring  to  pass,  will 
not,  however,  militate  against  the  argument  in  favor  of 
freedom ;  for,  if  God,  by  the  direct  exercise  of  His 
power,  produces  a  volition,  it  is  not  the  volition  of  any 
other  being  than  Himself ;  and  if  He  indirectly  influ 
ences  the  volition  by  changing  the  knowledge  of  a 
being,  then  this  change  of  knowledge  avails  only  on 
the  hypothesis  that  this  being  freely  conforms  its  action 
to  its  knowledge.  If  a  being  does  not  will  freely,  there 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  any  inducements  to  a  cer 
tain  act  will  avail  to  produce  that  act  any  more  than 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XL VII. 


GOD'S  FOEEKNOWLEDGE.  387 

the  contrary.  But,  as  we  have  already  suggested,  even 
supposing  God  to  have  this  power  over  every  future 
event,  and  that  either  directly  or  indirectly  He  can  con 
trol  every  volition,  and  deny  freedom  to  every  other 
being,  He  may  forego  the  exercise  of  such  power,  and 
thus  make  the  existence  of  finite  free  agents  possible. 

This  is  not  only  conceivable,  but  we  are  conscious 
of  having  and  of  exercising  such  power  ourselves — that 
we  can  refrain  from  doing  and  from  knowing  what  we 
might  do  and  know,  in  order  that  another  may  act 
freely.  For  instance,  a  child  is  in  a  room  with  two  doors 
to  it.  I  know  that,  by  using  my  superior  strength,  I 
can  put  the  child  out  of  the  room  by  a  certain  one  of 
them,  and  hence,  may  foreknow  that  the  child  will  go 
out  by  that  door  ;  but  I  decide  not  to  use  my  strength 
for  that  purpose,  and  leave  the  child  to  its  own  free 
action — to  go  out  by  either  door,  or  to  remain  in  the 
room.  I  may  alter  the  circumstances,  as,  for  instance, 
by  placing  some  attractive  object  just  without  one  of 
the  doors  in  the  view  of  the  child,  and  thus  make  it 
probable  that  the  child  will  leave  by  that  door ;  and 
this  probability  is  founded  on  the  presumption  that  the 
child,  with  the  knowledge  of  this  attractive  object,  will 
want  to  move  to  that  object  and  freely  will  to  do  so. 
I  may,  however,  will  not  to  exert  any  influence — not  to 
change  the  circumstances,  or  increase  the  knowledge  of 
the  child — but  leave  it  by  its  own  knowledge  freely  to 
determine  what  to  do.  In  this  case  I  do  not  even  seek 
to  change  its  final  action  by  imparting  knowledge. 

Edwards  argues  that  God  must  foreknow  the  voli 
tions  of  finite  moral  agents,  for,  otherwise,  His  knowl 
edge  of  the  future  would  become  so  imperfect  that  He 
could  not  govern  the  universe.  He  says  : 


388  KEVIEW   OF   EDWAUDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

"  So  that,  according  to  this  notion  of  God's  not  fore 
seeing  the  volitions  and. free  actions  of  men,  God  could 
foresee  nothing  appertaining  to  the  state  of  the  world 
of  mankind  in  future  ages  ;  not  so  much  as  the  being  of 
one  person  that  should  live  in  it ;  and  could  foreknow 
no  events,  but  only  such  as  He  would  bring  to  pass  Him 
self  by  the  extraordinary  interposition  of  His  immediate 
power  ;  or  things  which  should  come  to  pass  in  the  nat 
ural  material  world,  by  the  laws  of  motion  and  course 
of  nature,  wherein  that  is  independent  on  the  actions,  or 
works  of  mankind ;  that  is,  as  He  might,  like  a  very 
able  mathematician  and  astronomer,  with  great  exact 
ness,  calculate  the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies 
and  the  greater  wheels  of  the  machine  of  the  external 
creation. 

"  And  if  we  closely  consider  the  matter,  there  will 
appear  reason  to  convince  us,  that  Ha.  could  not,  with 
any  absolute  certainty,  foresee  even  these.  As  to  the 
first,  namely,  things  done  by  the  immediate  and  extra 
ordinary  interposition  of  God's  power,  these  cannot  be 
foreseen,  unless  it  can  be  foreseen  when  there  shall  be 
occasion  for  such  extraordinary  interposition.  And 
that  cannot  be  foreseen  unless  the  state  of  the  moral 
world  can  be  foreseen.  For  whenever  God  thus  inter 
poses,  it  is  with  regard  to  the  state  of  the  moral  world, 
requiring  such  divine  interposition.  Thus,  God  could 
not  certainly  foresee  the  universal  deluge,  the  calling 
of  Abraham,  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
the  plagues  on  Egypt  and  Israel's  redemption  out  of  it, 
the  expelling  the  seven  nations  of  Canaan,  and  the 
bringing  Israel  into  that  land ;  for  these  all  are  repre 
sented  as  connected  with  things  belonging  to  the  state 
of  the  moral  jvorld.  Nor  can  God  foreknow  the  most 


GOD'S  FOREKNOWLEDGE.  389 

proper  and  convenient  time  of  the  day  of  judgment  and 
general  conflagration ;  for  that  chiefly  depends  on  the 
course  and  state  of  things  in  the  moral  world  "  (pp. 
144-5). 

"  It  will  also  follow  from  this  notion  that,  as  God  is 
liable  to  be  continually  repenting  what  He  has  done ;  so 
He  must  be  exposed  to  be  constantly  changing  His  mind 
and  intentions  as  to  His  future  conduct ;  altering  His 
measures,  relinquishing  His  old  designs,  and  forming 
new  schemes  and  projections.  For  His  purposes,  even 
as  to  the  main  parts  of  His  scheme,  namely,  such  as 
belong  to  the  state  of  His  moral  kingdom,  must  be 
always  liable  to  be  broken,  through  want  of  foresight ; 
and  He  must  be  continually  putting  His  system  to 
rights,  as  it  gets  out  of  order  through  the  contingence 
of  the  actions  of  moral  agents.  He  must  be  a  Being, 
who,  instead  of  being  absolutely  immutable,  must  neces 
sarily  be  the  subject  of  infinitely  the  most  numerous 
acts  of  repentance  and  changes  of  intention  of  any 
being  whatsoever ;  for  this  plain  reason,  that  His  vastly 
extensive  charge  comprehends  an  infinitely  greater 
number  of  those  things,  which  are  to  Him  contingent 
and  uncertain.  In  such  a  situation,  He  must  have  little 
else  to  do,  but  to  mend  broken  links  as  well  as  He  can, 
and  be  rectifying  His  disjointed  frame  and  disordered 
movements,  in  the  best  manner  the  ca«e  will  allow. 
The  Supreme  Lord  of  all  things  must  needs  be  under 
great  and  miserable  disadvantages,  in  governing  the 
world,  which  He  has  made,  and  has  the  care  of,  through 
His  being  utterly  unable  to  find  out  things  of  chief 
importance,  which  hereafter  shall  befall  His  system ; 
which,  if  He  did  but  know,  He  might  make  seasonable 
provision  for.  In  many  cases,  there  may  be  very  great 


390  EEVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS  ON  THE   WILL. 

necessity  that  He  should  make  provision,  in  the  man 
ner  of  His  ordering  and  disposing  things,  for  some  great 
events  which  are  to  happen,  of  vast  and  extensive  influ 
ence,  and  endless  consequence  to  the  universe ;  which 
He  may  see  afterward  when  it  is  too  late,  and  may  wish 
in  vain  that  He  had  known  beforehand,  that  He  might 
have  ordered  His  affairs  accordingly.  And  it  is  in  the 
power  of  man,  on  these  principles,  by  his  devices,  pur 
poses,  and  actions,  thus  to  disappoint  God,  break  His 
measures,  make  Him  continually  to  change  His  mind, 
subject  Him  to  vexation  and  bring  Him  into  confusion  " 
(pp.  149--50). 

We  might,  perhaps,  argue  that  these  statements 
rather  tend  to  show  that  God  does  not  foreknow  the 
volitions  and  actions  of  men,  or,  at  least,  that  if  He 
does,  He  generally  chooses  not  to  interfere  with  them, 
but,  for  long  periods  of  time,  leaves  them  to  their  own 
free  actions ;  for  it  does  appear  from,  the  record,  that 
"  it  is  in  the  power  of  man  *  *  *  by  his  devices, 
purposes,  and  actions,  thus  to  disappoint  God,  break 
His  measures,  and  make  Him  continually  to  change 
His  mind,"  and  that  He  does  not  "  make  seasonable 
provision  "  to  prevent  the  necessity  of  His  "  rectifying 
His  disjointed  frame  and  disordered  movements,"  as 
evinced  in  the  necessity  of  a  general  destruction  by  the 
flood  to  get  rid  of  a  corruption  which  had  arisen  from 
agencies  which  He  did  not  control,  and  which,  a  resort 
to  such  a  measure  by  Omnipotence  would  seem  to 
argue,  could  not  possibly  be  directly  controlled  by  ex 
trinsic  power.  We  propose,  however,  to  discuss  the 
question  on  philosophical  and  not  on  theological  ground, 
and  to  treat  inferences  from  Biblical  quotations  as  we 
would  deductions  or  illustrations  from  any  other  state 
ment  of  fact  or  belief. 


GOD'S   FOKEKNOWLEDGE.  391 

The  foregoing  reasoning  of  Edwards  ii&serts,  that  it 
is  necessary  that  God  should  foreknow  the  volitions  of 
men,  because  of  the  influence  of  those  volitions  on  the 
affairs  of  the  world.  But,  it  is  evident  that  the  sup 
posed  difficulty  relates  less  to  the  volitions  than  to  the 
effects^  or  actual  doings  in  which  the  volitions  are  ex 
ecuted  ;  and,  if  the  foreknowledge  of  a  volition  is  thus 
necessary,  the  foreknowledge  of  the  sequent  effects 
must,  "  a  fortiori,"  be,  also,  necessary ;  and  if  the  fore 
knowledge  of  the  volition  proves  it  to  be  not  free,  the 
foreknowledge  of  the  doing  must  prove  it  not  free,  and 
this  would  take  from  man  the  liberty  which  Edwards 
grants  him,  in  doing  what  he  wills.  If  to  this  it  be  re 
plied  that,  if  the  volition  is  controlled,  there  is  no  ne 
cessity  for  controlling  the  consequent  effect,  or  doing, 
for  the  volition  itself  controls  it ;  it  would  still  appear 
that  there  is  no  liberty  in  the  sequent  doing,  for  the 
reply  asserts,  that  it  is  controlled  by  the  will,  which  is, 
also,  controlled,  and,  of  course,  whatever  controls  the 
will,  also  controls  the  doing;  so  that,  if  there  is  no 
liberty  in  willing,  there  can  really  be  none  in  the  conse 
quent  doing,  and  all  human  liberty  is  denied. 

But,  even  supposing  there  may  be  freedom  in  doing 
what  we  will,  when  there  is  no  freedom  in  willing,  the 
foregoing  difficulty,  in  respect  to  God's  government,  as 
Edwards  states  it,  is  equally  obviated,  either  by  suppos 
ing  that  God  controls  the  volition  and  constrains  it  to 
be  in  conformity  to  His  preordained  plan ;  or  that, 
leaving  man  to  will  freely,  He  frustrates  the  execution 
— the  doing — making  the  result  different  from  what 
the  agent  willing  intended,  whenever  that  intention 
conflicts  with  that  foreordained  plan.  Of  these  two 
positions,  it  seems  most  reasonable  to  adopt  the  latter, 


392       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

as  it  is  a  fact,  well  attested  by  our  daily  experience, 
that  in  the  doing  we  are  often-thus  frustrated  and  over 
ruled,  while  our  consciousness  reveals  no  such  inter 
ference  with  our  willing  to  do.  For  aught  that  appears, 
the  sequences  of  the  volitions  may  be  determined  in 
that  inscrutable  process,  by  which  our  volitions  are 
made  efficient,  and  of  which,  Edwards  truly  says,  we 
know  nothing.  Giving  to  the  argument,  then,  all  the 
scope  which  Edwards  assigns  to  it,  it  disproves  the  free 
dom  in  doing,  which  he  asserts,  rather  than  the  freedom 
in  willing,  which  he  denies.  But,  perhaps,  the  urgencies 
of  the  argument  do  not  require  that  even  the  freedom 
in  doing  should  be  abandoned;  and,  even  supposing 
man's  volitions  to  be  always  executed,  I  still  think  that 
Edwards  overrates  their  influence  on  the  ability  of 
God  to  control  and  direct  the  universe  and  its  affairs. 
The  child's  remaining  in  the  room,  or  going  out  of  it  by 
one  door,  or  the  other,  does  not  materially  affect  that 
knowledge  by  which  I  judge  of  what  I  shall  do  in  rela 
tion  to  the  future.  Knowing  all  the  results  possible  in 
the  case,  viz.,  that  the  child  will  remain  in  the  room, 
or  go  out  by  one  door,  or  by  the  other,  I  may  use  what 
wisdom  I  have,  in  so  ordering  my  own  actions,  as  to 
insure  the  most  good,  or,  the  least  possible  evil  from 
their  combination  with  any  one  of  the  three  possible 
contingent  events,  iiow,  the  acts  of  any  finite  number 
of  finite  free  agents,  must  bear  a  less  ratio  to  the  power 
and  wisdom  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  than  the  act 
of  the  child  does  to  even  the  most  wise  and  powerful  of 
finite  intelligences,  and  as  God  may  know  all  the  acts 
or  effects  possible  by  such  finite  intelligences,  singly  or 
combined.  He  may,  in  His  infinite  wisdom,  provide  for 
every  possible  event,  which  to  Him,  either  by  the  neces- 


393 

jsities  of  the  case,  or  by  His  own  free  will,  is  thus  made 
contingent.  Of  an  arrangement  so  vast,  it  is  difficult 
for  us  to  form  a  conception  to  reason  upon,  and  I  will, 
therefore,  endeavor  to  illustrate  the  views  just  expressed 
by  supposing  a  case,  which,  though  perfectly  conceiv 
able,  is  beyond  the  reach  of  any  human  calculation,  and 
beyond  any  human  power. 

Suppose,  then,  a  chessboard — an  automaton  chess 
board — in  which  each  piece  differing  in  functions,  or 
color,  has  a  different  weight,  and  that  each  square  is 
separately  supported  by  a  spring,  so  that  the  different 
weights  will  depress  each  to  a  different  point.  If  we 
suppose  any  one  given  position  of  the  pieces,  it  is  con 
ceivable  that  the  different  degrees  of  depression  may 
act  upon  machinery  devised  for  the  purpose  (say  ma 
chinery  moved  by  a  weight  like  a  clock),  so  that  the 
best  move  which  the  position  admits  of  will  be  made  ; 
and  though,  even  for  one  movement,  it  would  require 
very  complicated  machinery,  there  is  nothing  inconceiv 
able  or  impossible  in  it ;  and,  as  this  is  conceivable  of 
any  one  combination  of  the  pieces,  it  is  conceivable  that 
it  may  be  applied  to  every  possible  combination.  Siip- 
pose  then,  such  a  chessboard,  the  moves,  on  one  side, 
made  by  the  automatic  machinery,  and  on  the  other  by 
an  intelligent  finite  free  agent.  We  will  suppose  there 
is  nothing  else  in  existence  but  the  board  so  constructed 
— (of  course,  with  whatever  is  requisite  to  sustain  at 
traction,  gravitative  and  cohesive), — and  this  free  agent 
playing  the  other  side  of  the  game.  .  The  agent  moves 
freely  ;  what  particular  move  he  would  make,  the  mech 
anist  who  devised  the  machine  did  not  and  could  not 
anticipate,  but  knowing  every  possible  move  which  the 
position  admitted  of,  he  has  devised  the  machine  in  refer- 
17* 


394       EEVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

ence  to  every  such  possible  move ;  and  though  no  partic 
ular  move  is  foreknown,  yet,  if  the  mechanist,  with  full 
knowledge  of  every  possible  combination,  has  so  con 
trived  the  machine,  that  in  its  turn  the  best  possible  move 
will  be  made,  the  result,  supposing  the  mechanist  to  have 
his  choice  in  regard  to  the  first  move,  will  certainly  be 
checkmate  to  the  agent,  who  moves  freely,  but  without 
this  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  whole  possibilities 
of  the  game.  And  to  effect  this  result  does  not  require 
any  departure  from  -uniform  modes  of  action,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  is  produced  by  the  intelligent  application 
of  one  of  the  most  uniform  of  what  we  term  laws  of 
matter, — that  of  attraction.  The  attraction  of  gravita 
tion,  acting  through  the  weight  attached  to  the  ma 
chinery,  imparts  the  force  to  move  the  pieces,  and 
through  the  difference  in  the  weights  and  the  conse 
quent  unequal  depression  of  the  squares  by  the  pieces 
on  them,  giving  direction  to  that  force ;  while  the 
attraction  of  cohesion  gives  the  requisite  resistance  to 
the  springs  which  support  the  squares.  The  combina 
tions  on  the  chessboard,  though  vast  in  number,  are 
finite,  and  may  all  be  comprehended  by  a  finite  intelli 
gence.  Though  no  human  being  could  in  a  lifetime 
accomplish  any  large  part  of  the  calculations  and  work 
manship  essential  to  such  a  machine  as  we  have  de 
scribed,  still,  power  and  intelligence  short  of  the  infinite 
could  accomplish  it ;  and,  if  a  mechanist  of  finite  pow 
ers  could,  by  modes  as  uniform  as  the  laws  of  attrac 
tion,  thus  cause  to  be  made  all  the  moves  essential  to 
the  skilful  playing  of  this  complicated  game,  and  that, 
too,  without  being  able  to  anticipate  a  single  move  on 
the  other  side,  there  can  be  nothing  unreasonable  in 
supposing  that  God,  with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  all  the 


GOD'S  FOKEKNOWLEDGE.  395 

possible  combinations  and  changes,  which  His  own  sys-' 
tern  will  admit  of,  including  all  the  possible  effects  of 
the  action  of  finite  free  agents,  may,  without  knowing 
by  anticipation  the  particular  acts  of  those  finite  agents, 
so  contrive  His  uniform  modes  of  action,  that,  without 
varying  from  such  uniformity,  every  possible  contin- 
gence  will  be  provided  for,  "  without  altering  His  meas 
ures,  relinquishing  His  old  designs  and  forming  new 
schemes  and  projections."  If  it  be  true,  or  even  con 
ceivable,  that  man,  with  his  finite  powers  and  limited 
knowledge  of  the  future  acts  of  God  and  of  his  fellow 
beings,  which  does  not  include  all  possible  acts,  can 
yet,  in  his  finite  sphere,  with  finite  wisdom,  adapt  his 
acts  with  some  degree  of  effectiveness  to  that  future,  it 
is  certainly  conceivable,  that  God,  with  His  infinite 
powers  and  full  knowledge  of  all  that  is  possible  from 
other  causes  in  the  future,  may,  with  infinite  wisdom, 
adapt  His  acts  to  all  the  possibilities  of  that  future,  so 
that  He  will  not  be  liable  to  be  "  frustrated  of  His 
end." 

"We  have  explained  how  this  may  be  done  consist 
ently  with  uniformity  in  His  modes  of  action,  but»He 
has  still  in  reserve  the  power  of  deviating  from  that 
uniformity,  in  miracles,  and  it  appears  that  the. acts  of 
men,  in  the  exercise  of  their  free  agency,  became  so 
generally  perverse  and  corrupt,  that  Supreme  Wisdom 
demanded  their  almost  total  extinction,  and  a  special 
act  or  miraculous  interference  for  that  end.  Besides 
miracles,  which  are  deviations  from  the  established  uni 
form  modes  of  God's  action,  we  do  not  know  but  that 
many  things  are  the  result  of  His  special  actions  in 
regard  to  which  He  has  established  no  law  of  uniformity. 
We  do  not  know  that  these  things  are  not  dependent, 


396  EEVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

• 

in  each  case,  on  His  immediate  will,  without  reference 
to  any  conformity  with  acts  performed  in  the  past,  or 
contemplated  in  the  future.  We  do  not  know  but  that 
the  storm,  which  destroyed  the  Spanish  Armada — the 
winds,  which  delayed  the  landing  of  William  of 
Orange — or  the  unusually  early  commencement  of 
cold  weather,  which  frustrated  the  plans  of  Napoleon 
and  destroyed  his  army  in  Russia,  were  all  as  much 
special  acts  as  the  miraculous  opening  of  the  waters  of 
the  Red  Sea,  which  favored  the  escape  of  the  Israelites 
from  Egyptian  bondage.  With  these  ample  means 
there  would  Ecein  to  be  no  danger  that  God,  with  in 
finite  power  and  wisdom,  could  be  "  frustrated  of  His 
end,"  or,  that  He  would  not  be  able,  even  without  fore 
knowledge  of  the  particular  acts  of  finite  free  agents,  to 
bring  to  pass  all  that  He  might  deem  essential  to  the 
proper  government  of  the  universe,  and  to  such  care 
or  control  as  He  chooses  to  take  of  all  that  He  has  cre 
ated.*  We  will  add  that  the  necessity  of  knowing 
events  in  advance,  in  order  to  "  make  seasonable  pro 
vision  for  them,"  arises  from  the  weakness  of  the  agent 
on  whom  the  making  of  such  provision  devolves,  and 
the  time  required  will  be  somewhat  and  inversely  pro 
portioned  to  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  agent. 
When  that  power  and  wisdom  become  infinite,  the 
time  required  becomes  nought,  and  God  would  there 
fore  require  less  time  to  consider  the  most  intricate  and 
complicated  affairs  conceivable,  than  we  would  to  de 
termine  the  simplest  possible  case  that  could  be  pre 
sented  to  us. 

The  foreknowledge  of  God  has  the  same  relation  to 
His  action,  that  the  preconceptions  of  man  have  to  his. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XL VIII. 


397 

God  perceives  what,  without  His  own  effort,  the  course 
of  things  in  the  future  may  be,  and  by  what  effort  he 
can  change  that  course.  A  finite  being  may  exert  all 
his  ability  to  know  the  future,  and  may  also  exert  all 
his  power  to  influence  the  course  of  events,  and  thus 
increase  the  probability  that  the  future  will  conform  to 
his  anticipations :  or  he  may,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
child  just  mentioned,  foregb  the  exercise  of  his  own 
power  that  another  may  act  freely.  There  is  certainly 
no  impossibility  that  God  may  do  the  same.  A  being 
of  limited  powers  may  know  all  the  effects  bearing 
upon  his  future  action,  which  such  single  or  combined 
efforts  can  produce,  even  if  the  modes  in  which  they 
can  be  produced  are  infinite,  and  hence  beyond  his 
prescience.  For  instance,  the  ways  in  which  a  friend 
may  reach  a  place  at  which  I  am  to  meet  him  at  a 
given  time,  may  be  infinite  in  number,  and  yet,  the 
fact  that  he  does  reach  the  place  at  the  appointed  time, 
be  all  that  is  material  to  my  plan  of  future  action.  In 
certain  states  of  a  game  of  chess,  a  man  can  foresee 
every  possible  move,  which  his  antagonist  may  next 
make,  that  can  affect  the  result  of  the  game,  and  make 
his  own  plans  accordingly.  A  man  of  ordinary  skill 
and  discernment  may,  sometimes,  do  this  even  for  Sa*ch 
of  a  few  moves  in  advance,  and,  if  he  had  sufficient 
capacity,  he  could  do  it  for  the  whole  game.  To  one 
who  did  this,  the  game  would  lose  its  interest,  and  he 
wbuld  play  it  only  as  a  benevolent  man  plays  the  sim 
ple  game  of  Fox  and  Geese  with  a  child  for  its  amuse 
ment. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  at  the  commencement  of 
the  game,  one  player,  A,  having  the  requisite  capacity, 
perceives  that  his  antagonist,  B,  has  his  choice  of  the 


398  EEVIEW   OF  EDWAKDS   ON  THE  WILL. 

twenty  different  moves.  A  may  plan  his  play  so  that 
he  will  be  ready  to  move  in  any  one  of  the  twenty 
cases  which  can  arise,  and  B,  at  the  commencement,  if 
looking  forward,  and  providing  in  advance  for  the 
whole  game,  must,  for  his  second  move,  take  into  view 
the  four  hundred  possible  contingencies  growing  out  of 
the  two  moves  to  be  previously  made ;  and  the  number 
of  possible  combinations  in  a  game  of  ordinary  length 
would  be  almost  innumerable.  But  even  to  provide  in 
advance  for  all  these,  though  far  beyond  the  reach  of 
human  faculties,  would  still  be  within  the  scope  of  even 
a  finite  comprehension  ;  and  when  we  contemplate  the 
Supreme  Intelligence,  as  anticipating  and  providing,  or 
making  immediate  provision  as  they  occur,  for  all  the 
possible  contingencies  which  can  arise  from  the  free 
volitions  of  myriads  of  free  agents,  and  all  their  com 
binations  ;  although  we  know  that,  being  still  finite  in 
number,  they  cannot  exhaust  the  power,  or  fill  the  com 
prehension,  which  is  infinite ;  yet,  we  may  perceive 
that  they  may  furnish  ample  occasion  for  the  effort — 
that  they  may  call  out  the  energies  of  a  being,  capable 
of  producing  all  the  sublimely  vast  and  minutely  per 
fect  combinations,  which  creative  power  has  exhibited 
to  us  ;  and,  perhaps,  can  hardly  avoid  the  thought  that 
they  must,  even  in  such  a  being,  excite  that  interest, 
which  arises  from  the  necessity  of  thought,  skill,  and 
contrivance,  to  accomplish  its  object  and  avoid  being 
frustrated  by  the  action  of  other  powers. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  God  foreknows,  and,  as  an 
attribute  of  Divinity  has  ever  foreknown  all  the  future, 
then  that  portion  of  His  creative  power  which  relates 
to  designing  that  future,  and  which  is  the  highest  at 
tribute  of  Creative  Power,  has  no  sphere  for  its  exer- 


399 

else,  and  never  could  have  had  any ;  it  is  virtually 
annihilated,  and  God  becomes  a  mere  executive  causal 
ity  working  out  plans  preformed,  and  requiring  in  their 
accomplishment  no  higher  order  of  intelligence,  no  more 
exalted  creative  talent  than  is  required  to  copy  a  paint 
ing.  On  such  hypothesis,  indeed,  still  less  than  this, 
for,  as  on  it  God's  own  volitions  must  be  foreknown 
and  be  manifest  to  Himself,  He  does  not  even  have  by 
a  present  exercise  of  intelligent  power  to  adapt  his 
effort  to  the  effect,  as  the  copyist  must  do,  and  this  per 
fect  prescience  would  degrade  the  Supreme  Power  to 
the  same  rank  as  that  of  one  who  turns  the  crank  of  a 
mill,  knowing  that  thereby  the  corn  is  ground,  but  also 
knowing  each  required  volition  without  any  present 
effort  for  that  object.  A  prescience  which  has  always 
included  the  whole  future  must  be  innate,  and  never 
have  been  the  occasion  for  any  exercise  of  intelligent 
power,  which  the  knowledge  required  to  turn  the  crank 
may  have  been.  The  acting  of  a  being  from  the  knowl 
edge  of  a  mode  which  has  ever  existed  ready  formed  in 
its  own  mind  is  purely  instinctive,  and  action  merely 
from  the  innate  knowledge  of  its  own  volitions  and  of 
the  order  of  their  succession,  requiring  no  exercise  of 
intelligence  in  applying  the  known  mode  to  the  occa 
sion  for  it,  would  be  below  the  ordinary  forms  of  in 
stinctive  action. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  now  to  follow  Edwards  in  his 
attempt  to  prove  that  his  system  of  necessity  is  consist 
ent  with  moral  agency,  with  virtue,  and  with  common 
sense.  This,  if  I  have  succeeded  in  showing  that  his 
arguments  in  support  of  that  system  are  fallacious,  and 


4:00  REVIEW   OF   EDWAEDS   ON   THE  WELL. 

that  it  is  in  fact  untrue,  would  be  needless ;  and,  if  I 
have  failed  to  do  this,  there  would  be  little  ground  to 
hope  that  my  examination  of  the  subsequent  portions 
of  his  work  would  be  attended  with  any  better  result. 


CHAPTEE    XIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

WE  have  now  shown  that  the  Will,  instead  of  being 
as  defined  by  Edwards  "  that  by  which  the  mind  chooses 
anything,"  is  the  mind's  faculty  or  power  of  making 
effort,  and  that,  in  relation  to  choice,  we  make  effort  to 
ascertain  which  of  two  or  more  things  is  preferable  only 
as  we  do  to  ascertain  any  other  fact  which  we  want  to 
know ;  that  Edwards  also  defines  choice  to  be  a  com 
parative  act,  or  the.  result  of  such  act,  and  yet  makes 
choice  and  will  synonymous.  He  also  makes  will  the 
last  agency  of  the  mind  in  producing  an  effect,  and  as 
sumes  that  choice  is  a  necessary  prerequisite  and  the 
distinguishing  condition  of  free  acts  of  will.  From 
these  various  and  incompatible  definitions  of  the  same 
terms,  and  these  unfounded  assumptions,  he -argues  that 
as  a  free  act  of  will  must  be  preceded  by  a  choice, 
which  is  itself  also  an  act  of  will,  and  hence,  if  a  free 
act,  must  have^also  been  preceded  by  a  choice,  and  this 
choice  as  a  free  act  of  will  again  thus  preceded,  and  so 
on  without  limit,  there  could  have  been  no  first  free  act 
of  will,  and,  if  the  first  act  was  not  free,  then  the  whole 
subsequent  train  is  not  free.  But  the  foundation  of 
this,  his  favorite  reductio  ad  dbsurdum,  which  he  ap- 


4:02  REVIEW   OF   EDWARDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

plies  in  a  variety  of  modes,  is  wholly  destroyed  by  cor 
recting  the  definitions  and  assumptions  as  above  stated. 

In  regard  to  this  reasoning  I  have  also  remarked 
that  self-direction,  and  not  choice,  is  the  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  freedom.  The  mind  thus  directs  its 
efforts  by  means  of  the  knowledge  which  it  has  at  the 
moment  it  makes  the  effort,  including  its  preconcep 
tions  of  the  effect  it  seeks  to  produce.  Whether  this 
knowledge-  has  been  acquired  by  previous  efforts  of 
comparison  resulting  in  choice,  or  otherwise,  it  is,  at 
the  time  of  applying  it,  but  the  mind's  perception,  and 
the  mode  of  its  prior  acquisition  can  make  no  difference 
to  the  freedom  of  the  act  which  the  mind  directs  by 
means 'of  the  knowledge  which  it  now  actually  possesses. 
I  have  further  observed  that  this  confounding  will  with 
choice,  which  as' one  form  of  knowledge  is  not  subject 
to  the  will,  but,  as  a  result  of  certain  comparisons,  is  as 
necessarily  and  passively  recognized  by  the  knowing 
sense  as  sound  is  through  the  ear,  opens  the  way  for  the 
argument,  that  as  choice  is,  in  this  sense,  necessary,  will, 
being  the  same  as  choice,  must  also  be  necessary,  and 
this  confounding  as  identical  two  things  so  very  distinct 
as  will  and  knowledge  leads  to  intricate  confusion  and 
various  sophisms,  pervading,  as  already  shown,  a  large 
portion  of  Edwards's  argument. 

In  regard  to  that  somewhat  simpler  form  of  his  re- 
ductio  ad  dbsurdum  to  prove  that  the  will  (free  or 
not  free)  cannot  determine  itself,  because,  if  it  does,  it 
must  determine  each  act  by  a  prior  act  of  will,  admit 
ting  of  no  first  act,  and  which,  taken  in  the  view  most 
favorable  for  Edwards,  only  proves  that  the  mind  can 
not  always  direct  its  act  of  will  l>y  a  prior  act  of  will, 
it  has  already  been  remarked  that  this  does  not  conflict 
with  the  position  that  the  mind  determines  its  act  of 


CONCLUSION.  403 

will  by  means  of  its  knowledge,  in  which  act?  being 
thus  self-directed,  it  acts  freely.  Edwards  applies  this 
reasoning  to  choice,  evidently,  however,  here  as  else 
where,  using  it  as  a  synonym  for  will,  and  will,  with 
him,  meaning  u  the  sonl  willing,"  his  inference  really 
is,  that  the  soul  willing  or  choosing  cannot  determine 
its  act  of  will  or  choice.  But  it  is  evident  that  the 
essence  of  a  choice  must  be  the  determining  among  ob 
jects  of  choice,  and  if  the  soul  cannot  do  this  it  cannot 
choose  at  all,  but  something  else  must  choose  for  it. 
From  the  same  position  it  also  follows  that  as  the  mind 
cannot  will  generally,  but  can  only  will  particular  acts 
which  must  be  determined  or  decided  upon  before  it 
can  will,  i.  e.,  make  effort  in  regard  to  them,  it  cannot 
will  until  the  act  of  will  is  elected  and  determined  or 
decided  upon,  and  if  the  mind  cannot  make  this  elec 
tion  it  cannot  will  till  some  other  power  has  deter 
mined  its  act  for  it,  and  hence  cannot  of  itself  make 
effort  or  will  without  this  extrinsic  aid. 

As  bearing  on  this  point  I  have  shown  that  the 
mind  need  not  and  does  not  will  either  to  will  or  not 
to  will,  nor  yet  to  suspend  willing,  but  that  it  directly 
wills  or  makes  effort  to  do  that  which  it  wants  done, 
and  remains  or  becomes  passive  when  it  has  no  want  or 
perceives  no  reason  to  be  active,  and  hence  a  prior  act 
of  will  is  not  necessary  either  to  our  willing  or  non- 
willing.  This  denies  the  premise  on  which  the  argu 
ments  of  Edwards  just  treated  of  are  founded. 

Edwards  also  assumes  that  freedom  means  power  to 
do  as  one  wills,  which,  as  it  can  oniy  come  after,  either 
does  not  apply  to  or  denies  freedom  in  the  act  of  willing. 
In  his  Part  II.  Section  13,  he  asserts  that  even  if  the 
will  determines  its  own  act  it  is  not  free,  because  it  is 


4:04  REVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE   WILL. 

still  controlled,  which,  as  applied  to  the  argument,  as 
before  intimated,  is  equivalent  to  saying,  the  mind  in 
its  acts  of  willing  is  not  free,  because  in  them  it  must 
control  its  own  action,  and  hence  is  constrained,  or  is 
under  a  necessity,  to  be  free.  I  need  not  repeat  the  rea 
soning  showing  that  Edwards's  definition  of  freedom, 
and  this  assumption  that  whatever  is  controlled  even 
by  itself  is  not  free,  in  which  the  above  sophisms  have 
their  root,  are  wholly  erroneous,  and  that  self-control 
or  self-direction  is  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
freedom.  Correct  these  errors,  and  those  before  men 
tioned  in  regard  to  will,  and  a  large  portion  of  his  rea 
soning  becomes  either  entirely  futile  or  affirms  the  free 
dom,  not  of  the  will,  but  of  the  mind  in  willing. 

Edwards's  remarks  upon  "moral  necessity"  only 
tend  to  show  that  a  man  must  will  in  conformity  to  his 
inclination ;  but,  as  he  makes  inclination  synonymous 
with  choice,  preference,  and  will,  this  only  tends  to 
prove  that  a  man  must  will  in  conformity  to  his  will : 
or,  if  he  uses  this  term  inclination  as  designating  a 
choice,  and  a  prior  choice,  as  I  think  would  be  proper, 
then,  the  argument  proves  that  these  acts  of  will  have 
the  condition  of  previous  choice  which  Edwards  as 
sumes  to  be  the  essential  condition  of  free  acts  ;  while 
his  remarks  on  "  Moral  Inability,"  going  to  show  that 
there  can  be  no  act  of  will  when  this  inclination  is 
wanting,  merely  tend  to  prove  that  there  can  be  no  act 
of  will  without  this  essential  condition  of  freedom  ;  the 
two  arguments  thus  going  to  prove  that  every  act  of 
will  which  is  possible  must  of  necessity  be  free. 

In  regard  to  the  difficulties  which  Edwards  treats 
of  in  connection  with  "  moral  necessity  "  and  "  moral 
inability,"  and  which  he  asserts  the  will  may  be  unable 


CONCLUSION.  405 

to  surmount,  I^have  shown  that  the  faculty  of  will  is 
not  in  itself  limited,  but  that  we  can  will  or  make  effort 
to  do  anything  which  we  can  conceive  any  mode  of 
doing,  and  further,  that  these  difficulties  relate  not  to 
our  willing,  but  to  our  obtaining  the  knowledge  by 
which  to  direct  our  efforts  or  decide  what  we  will  try 
to  do,  which,  as  we  are  not,  and  cannot  be,  omniscient, 
we  cannot  always  acquire.  From  "  Natural  Necessity," 
as  Edwards  treats  it,  he  can  only  infer  that  a  man  can 
not  always  execute  what  he  wills,  or  do  what  he  tries 
to  do,  which,  coming  after,  cannot  affect  the  freedom 
of  the  mind's  previous  act  in  willing. 

I  have  also  observed,  that  the  existence  of  difficul 
ties  which  the  mind  in  its  act  of  will  is  unable  to  sur 
mount,  goes  to  prove  that  the  mind  is  the  real  agent  in 
such  willing,  and  that  if  its  volitions  are  necessitated,  it 
could  have  no  difficulty  in  regard  to  them  :  and  further, 
that  in  all  the  cases  cited  by  Edwards  the  supposed 
difficulty  really  is  the  absence  of  any  want  to  do,  and 
if  it  were  possible  for  the  mind  to  overcome  this  diffi 
culty,  and  will  what  it  did  not  want  to  will,  this  would 
rather  indicate  that  it  did  not  act  freely,  while  the  im 
possibility  of  its  doing  so  proves  that  in  such  cases  it 
cannot  possibly  be  unfree. 

After  having  thus  sought  to  prove  that  the  will,  or 
the  soul  in  willing,  cannot  determine  its  own  action 
because  of  the  impossibility  of  doing  it  by  prior  acts  of 
will,  or  because  in  the  attempt  it  encounters  difficulties 
which  it  cannot  surmount,  Edwards  seeks  to  show  that 
it  is  determined  by  some  extrinsic  cause  or  power.  He 
argues  that  every  event  which  begins  to  be  must  have 
a  cause,  i.  0.,  as  he  says,  a  grounU  or  reason  why  it  is, 
and  that  this  cause  must  be  prior  to  the  event ;  that 


406       KEVIEW  OF  EDWAEDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

volition  is  such  an  event,  and  hence  must  be  connected 
with  some  cause  in  the  past  on  which  its  existence  de 
pends,  and  as  the  same  causes  must  produce  the  same 
effects,  the  volition  is  determined  by  this  cause  to  be 
one  particular  volition  and  can  be  no  other.  Against 
this  I  have  urged  that  the  past  cannot  will — put  forth 
or  produce  a  volition  ;  that  mind  has  an  inherent  abil 
ity  to  act  or  make  effort,  and  that  this  action  or  effort 
is  its  volition,  of  which  itself  is  the  cause,  and  hence 
that  the  necessary  connection  of  the  effect  with  its 
cause  only  establishes  the  mind's  power  to  control  its 
volitions,  and  thus  confirms  its  freedom  in  willing. 
And  further,  that  the  volition  is  in  no  wise  dependent 
on  the  past  any  further  than  that  the  mind  may  have 
acquired  knowledge  in  that  past,  which  knowledge, 
however,  is  now  present  to  it,  and  that  if,  from  any 
being  having  power  to  act,  and  in  present  possession  of 
knowledge  to  direct  its  action,  the  past  were  entirely 
cut  off,  or  even  if  to  such  being  there  never  had 
been  any  past,  it  could  still  direct  its  own  action,  or 
make  effort  to  affect  the  future,  which  is  always  the  de 
sign  of  effort,  and  hence  such  volition  is  not  of  necessity 
controlled  by  the  extrinsic  events  of  the  past.  I  have 
further  observed  that,  so  far  as  we  know,  every  intel 
ligent  being  conies  into  existence  with  an  object  of 
effort — with  want — and  the  knowledge  of  a  means  of 
gratifying  this  want,  and  can  thus  direct  its  effort  with 
out  reference  to  any  past. 

On  this  point  I  have  also  argued  that  if  the  past 
is  a  cause  of  which  volition  is  a  necessary  effect,  then, 
as  to  every  being  there  always  is  a  past,  every  being 
must  of  necessity  will  without  any  cessation ;  and  fur 
ther,  that  if  this  cause  is  the  whole  past,  then,  as  this 


CONCLUSION.  407 

whole  past  is  at  every  instant  the  same  to  all,  and  the 
same  causes  necessarily  produce  the  same  effects-  (as 
perhaps  any  blind  causes  must  do),  the  same  voli 
tion  must  be  produced  in  all  at  the  same  time.  And  if 
it  be  said  that  the  volition  in  each  mind  is  produced 
only  by  that  portion  of  the  past  of  which  this  particular 
mind  is  cognizant,  then  there  must  be  some  intelligent 
power  to  adapt  this  volition  to  the  varying  circum 
stances  of  each  mind,  which  a  blind  past  could  not  do. 

To  this  controlling  cause  of  volition  in  the  past,  Ed 
wards  subsequently  gives  the  name  of  "  motive,"  upon 
his  vague  definition  of  which  I  have  commented.  He 
treats  inclination  as  a  motive,  but  he  also  makes  inclina 
tion  synonymous  with  choice  and  will,  which  would 
make  the.  will — the  soul  willing — the  cause  of  its  own 
act. 

He  also  treats  habit  as  a  motive ;  but,  as  I  have 
shown  (in  Book  I,  Chap,  xi),  habit  is  but  the  mind's 
acting  in  conformity  to  a  plan  before  known  to  it, 
rather  than  to  form  a  new  one,  and  this  conforming  its 
action  to  a  mode  previously  known,  being  still  self- 
direction,  does  not  militate  against  its  freedom  in  such 
action.  I  have  also  shown  that  on  analyzing  the  par 
ticular  cases  cited  by  Edwards,  it  appears  that  motive 
is  but  the  mind's  own  view  of  some  desirable  effect  of 
its  contemplated  effort,  so  that  even  the  "  ground  or 
reason  "  for  the  act  is  not  found  in  the  past,  but  in  the 
future,  of  which  the  mind  has  a  present  preconception. 
This  shows  that  in  these  cases,  especially  selected  to 
prove  necessity,  the  mind  directs  its  acts  of  will  by  its 
own  view,  i.  e.,  by  its  own  knowledge,  thus  'really 
affirming  its  freedom. 

As  touching  this  influence  of  the  past,  I  have  further 


408       EEVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

argued  that  though  that,  which  by  activity  may  be 
come  cause,  may  and  generally  does  have  a  prior  ex 
istence,  yet  an  effect  is  always  simultaneous  with  the 
action  of  its  cause,  for  if  the  effect  can  be  delayed  for 
an  instant,  it  may  be  for  another  and  another,  and  so 
may  never  be.  This  would  dissolve  the  connection 
which  must  exist  between  any  effect  actually  produced 
and  its  cause,  though  the  terms  or  things  connected 
may  not  of  necessity  be  uniform. 

In  regard  to  the  uniformity  of  cause  and  effect,  or 
the  rule  that  the  same  causes  necessarily  produce  the 
same  effects,  which  is  assumed  by  Edwards,  and  makes 
an  essential  link  in  some  of  his  arguments  for  necessity, 
I  have  contended  that  it  is  not  a  law  of  metaphysical 
necessity,  but  an  empirical  result  of  our  observations 
of  material  phenomena,  and  that  even  in  them  there  is 
no  sufficient  ground  for  assuming  that  it  is  universal, 
and  no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  applies  to  mind.  That 
in  things  material  it  but  indicates  that  the  Supreme 
Intelligence  has  voluntarily  adopted  certain  uniform 
rules  for  governing  or  directing  His  own  actions,  and 
that  it  is  quite  conceivable  that  He  could  have  varied 
this  plan  so  as  to  have  produced  a  perfect  variety  or 
want  of  uniformity.  That  even  infinite  power  must  be 
presumed  to  put  forth  creative  effort  from  a  want  of 
variety,  and  that  the  only  conceivable  reason  why  such 
variety  is  partially  sacrificed  to  uniformity,  is  the  abso 
lute  necessity  of  such  uniformity  to  the  existence  of 
finite  free  agents.  This  uniformity  in  the  material  uni 
verse,  then,  instead  of  favoring  the  argument  for  neces 
sity  in  the  action  of  such  agents',  as  Edwards  supposes, 
really  becomes,  as  a  final  cause,  an  argument  that  they 
act  freely.  It  is  conceivable  that  this  result  might  have 


CONCLUSION.  409 

been  reached  by  other  modes,  as,  for  instance,  by  estab 
lishing  a  law  of  variability,  and  making  this  law  known 
to  finite  agents,  but  this  does  not  conflict  with  the  argu 
ment  just  deduced  from  the  fact  of  uniformity,  and  need 
not  be  here  dwelt  upon. 

I  have  also  suggested  that  this  uniformity,  in  things 
material,  may  arise  from  an  infinitely  wise  being  always 
knowing  what  is  best  under  certain  circumstances  and 
conforming  its  action  in  each  recurrence  of  them  to  this 
knowledge.  Finite  mind,  too,  may  freely  adopt  gen 
eral  rules  for  its  action  under  certain  circumstances,  or 
at  each  recurrence  of  the  like  circumstances  may  per 
ceive  the  same  action  to  be  best,  and  freely  conforming 
its  action  to  its  knowledge  of  the  general  rule,  or  of  the 
particular  fact,  produce  a  certain  degree  of  uniformity 
in  its  efforts  and  in  the  consequent  effects.  In  none  of 
these  cases  does  the  uniformity  conflict  with  the  mind's 
freedom,  but  such  freedom  is  rather  an  element  in  pro 
ducing  the  uniformity. 

I  have  further  urged  that  even  admitting  the  rule 
of  uniform  causation,  and  that  it  applies  to  mind,  we 
could  only  infer  from  it  that  the  volitions  as  effects  are 
necessary,  and  not  that  mind,  as  their  cause,  is  neces 
sitated  or  not  free  in  its  action.  Sach  necessity  of  the 
effect  is  proof  only  of  the  sufficient  power  of  mind  as 
cause  to  produce  it.  Hence,  though  this  assumed  rule 
is  much  relied  upon  in  the  argument  for  necessity,  its 
disproof  is  not  absolutely  essential  either  to  the  refuta 
tion  of  that  argument  or  to  the  proof  of  freedom,  and 
especially  if  it  is  established  that  mind  is  a  first  cause, 
acting  from  considerations  of  the  future  and  not  moved 
by  power  in  \hvpast. 

Throughout  his  "  Treatise  "  Edwards  ignores  mind 
18 


410       REVIEW  OF  EDWARDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

as  cause,  making  such  unintelligent  things  as  past 
events,  motives,  and  habits  control  and  direct  the  course 
of  events  in  the  future,  including  human  volitions.  I 
have  urged  that  such  unintelligent  things  have  no 
power  or  tendency  to  will '  themselves,  or  to  produce  a 
volition  in  anything  else,  and  even  if  they  had  such 
power,  their  causative  action  and  effects  must  form  an 
infinite  series  running  backward  into  the  past,  each  link 
or  term  requiring  a  preceding  one  as  its  cause  without 
the  possibility  of  ever  reaching  a  first  cause  ;  and  if  the 
Supreme  Intelligence  is  admitted  to  be  a  first  cause  ca 
pable  of  beginning  a  series  of  events  without  reference 
to  a  past,  then  the  assumption  in  regard  to  the  necessity 
of  past  causality  is  destroyed,  and  cannot  be  urged 
against  the  position  that  finite  intelligence  -in  its  finite 
sphere  may  act  and  produce  effects  in  the  future  with-  • 
out  any  causative  power  being  exerted  by  the  past. 

It  appears  that  some  of  the  advocates  of  freedom 
have  admitted  that  will  and  choice  are  the  same,  and 
also  that  liberty  implies  the  absence  not  only  of  ex 
trinsic,  but  of  self  control,  and  hence  were  driven  to 
certain  positions  in  regard  to  "  indifference  "  and  "  con- 
tingence  "  against  which  Edwards  directs  his  arguments 
on  these  subjects.  They  are  not  material  to  the  system 
I  have  advanced,-  and  I  have  remarked  upon  them  only 
because  they  afforded  opportunity  to  elucidate  my  own 
views,  and  to  expose  some  of  the  fallacies  opposed  to 
them.  ISfearly  all  of  Edwards's  reasoning  upon  them 
rests  upon  the  erroneous  definitions  and  assumptions 
already  mentioned. 

Another  argument  for  necessity,  adduced  by  Ed 
wards,  is,  that  the  volition  always  follows  the  last  dic 
tate  of  the  understanding,  or  is  so  connected  with  the 


CONCLUSION.  411 

understanding,  as  an  antecedent  cause,  that  the  volition, 
as  its  effect,  must  be  one  particular  volition,  and  *an  be 
no  other.  But  the  last  dictate  of  the  understanding  is 
often  itself  a  choice,  which  in  Edwards's  system  is  a 
volition  and  cannot  follow  itself.  And  if  the  under 
standing  is  a  portion,  power,  faculty,  or  attribute  of  the 
mind,  then,  that  the  volition  is  certainly  determined  by 
the  "understanding  only  proves  the  mind's  perfect  con 
trol,  and  consequent  freedom,  in  its  act  of  willing. 

The  last  dictate  of  the  understanding  always  is  a 
conclusion  as  to  truths  or  facts  in  regard  to  the  subject 
presented,  and  may  be  the  result  of  effort  in  examining 
by  comparison  or  otherwise,  or  may  be  an  immediate 
perception  of  the  knowing  sense.  In  all  cases  it  is  the 
view  or  knowledge  of  the  mind,  which  it  can  use  to 
direct  its  action.  This  last  dictate,  however,  is  not 
always  followed  by  an  act  of  will,  but  in  many  cases, 
as  when  we  compare  two  triangles  merely  to  ascertain 
their  relative  size,  the  knowledge  is  itself  the  end 
sought,  and  leads  to  no  subsequent  effort — no  act  of 
will  follows. 

It  appears,  also,  that  the  advocates  for  freedom  have 
relied  much  upon  the  asserted  ability  of  the  mind  to 
will  in  cases  of  indifference,  i.  e.,  in  cases  in  which 
there  can  be  no  ground  of  choice  as  between  two  things 
or  two  acts,  and  no  motive  to  choose  *or  do  one  rather 
than  the  other.  Edwards  attempts  to  show  that  in  such 
cases  the  mind  makes  for  itself  a  rule  of  action  which 
becomes  to  it  a  motive  to  choose  one  rather  than  the 
other.  I  have  endeavored  to  prove  that  the  plan  he 
suggests  really  involves  the  very  difficulties  he  seeks  by 
it  to  avoid,  and  in  a  greater  degree,  and  that  the  mind 
in  such  cases,  instead  of  doing  something  additional  to 


412       REVIEW  OF  EDWAKDS  ON  THE  WILL. 

construct  this  motive,  really  omits  the  preliminary  com 
parison  and  judgment  as  to  the  things  or  acts  which  it 
already  perceives  to  be  equal,  or  ends  its  effort  to  com 
pare  with  such  perception  of  their  equality,  as  readily 
as  it  would  do  with  a  perception  that  one  thing  is  de 
cidedly  better  than  some  other,  and,  in  fact,  comes  to 
no  choice  among  them.  The  argument  on  "  choosing 
in  things  indifferent"  derives  much  of  its  supposed 
importance  from  the  assumption  that  to  choose  and  to 
will  are  the  same  thing.  Under  the  views  I  have  put 
forth,  choice,  even  between  acting  and  not  acting,  may 
not  be  of  necessity  essential  to  an  act  of  will,  much  less 
choice  as  between  different  acts  or  objects.  An  oyster 
having  the  faculty  of  will  and  the  feeling  of  hunger, 
with  only  an  innate  knowledge  of  the  mode  of  opening 
its  bivalves,  and  that  opening  them  is  required  to  sat 
isfy  its  hunger,  could  will  to  open  them  without  com 
paring  the  act  of  opening  with  any  other  act.  If  it 
acts  at  all  it  must  be  without  such  comparison  or  conse 
quent  choice,  for  it  knows  no  other  act  with  which  to 
compare.  It  could  thus  act  even  though  there  were  no 
other  power  in  existence,  and  of  course  in  so  doing 
would  then  be  both  uncontrolled  and  unaided,  and 
hence  the  act  must  be  wholly  its  own  self-directed  act, 
and,  consequently,  a  free  though  but  an  instinctive  act. 
Such  an  oyster  fraving  a  faculty  of  will,  and  knowledge 
to  direct  its  effort  or  act  of  will  to  effect  what  it  wants, 
is  in  itself  complete  as  a  self-acting  and  self-directing 
power  or  cause,  is  a  complete  free  agent,  though  with  a 
very  limited  agency.  Its  agency  is  limited  like  that  of 
every  other  order  of  intelligence  to  the  sphere  of  its. 
knowledge.  With  the  knowledge  of  one  mode  of  action, 
preliminary  efforts  to  obtain  more  knowledge  by  coin- 


CONCLUSION.  413 

parison  and  consequent  choice,  are  not  essential  to  ac 
tion,  but  only  to  better  or  to  varied  action,  and  if  such 
preliminary  efforts  are  unsuccessful  and  no  choice  is 
reached,  it  leaves  the  mind  to  the  mode  of  action  pre 
viously  known  to  it.  As  by  its  own  unaided  efforts  the 
oyster  can  to  the  extent  of  opening  and  shutting  its 
bivalves  influence  the  future,  it  is  so  far  a  creative  first 
cause.  It  can  originate  action  and  produce  effects — 
begin  and  complete  a  series  of  effects — for  which  there 
is  no  cause  anterior  to  itself. 

Besides  the  attempts  to  prove  necessity  in  the  mind's 
acts  of  will,  by  showing  in  the  first  place  that  it  cannot 
determine  its  own  action,  and  in  the  second,  that  its 
action  is  determined  by  something  extrinsic  to  itself, 
Edwards  has  a  third  mode  of  argument  seeking  to  prove 
that  in  point  of  fact  volitions  must  be  necessary  because 
God  certainly  foreknows  them.  Admitting,  for  the 
argument,  that  foreknowledge  of  a  volition,  by  an  infal 
lible  being,  involves  its  necessity,  I  have  contended  that 
for  such  foreknowledge  there  is  no  such  necessity  as 
Edwards  asserts  :  that  as  it  appeared  probable  that  God 
had  limited  variety,  as  the  object  of  His  action,  for  the 
reason  that  uniformity  in  it  is  essential  to  the  existence 
of  finite  free  agents,  so  He  might  for  a  like  reason  limit 
His  prescience. 

Edwards  asserts  that  foreknowledge,  and  especially 
foreknowledge  of  human  volitions,  is  absolutely  neces 
sary  to  enable  the  Supreme  Intelligence  to  govern  the 
universe — that  without  it  He  could  not  provide  in  sea 
son  for  the  contingencies  which  would  arise  from  the 
unknown  volitions.  In  opposition  to  this,  I  have  urged 
that  a  being  of  infinite  wisdom  could,  without  knowing 
a  single  future  volition  of  any  finite  being,  provide  in 


414:  EEVIEW   OF   EDWAKDS   ON   THE  WILL. 

advance  for  every  contingency  which  could  possibly 
arise  from  free  and  independent  finite  action ;  and 
further  that  a  being  infinite  in  wisdom  and  power  has  no 
need  thus  to  provide  in  advance,  as  He  could  both  form 
.  and  execute  His  plan  at  the  instant  that  the  emergency 
for  it  arose  ;  that  He  could  do  this  and  yet  conform  all 
His  acts  to  uniform  modes,  and  still  have  in  reserve,  for 
any  possible  requirement,  the  power  to  depart  from 
these  uniform  modes  and  work  by  miracles. 

I  have  also  argued  that  the  actual  foreknowledge  of 
all  future  events,  including  the  volitions  of  Himself  and 
of  all  otner  intelligent  beings,  would  deprive  God  of 
the  highest  attributes  of  creative  intelligence,  and,  in 
fact,  deny  that  He  ever  possessed  them — that,  though 
still  infinite,  His  creative  power  would  thereby  be 
reduced  in  rank  beneath  that  of  the  mere  copyist  and 
His  voluntary  action  to  the  level  of  the  lowest  form  of 
the  instinctive.  As  between  these  two  hypotheses,  the 
one  attributing  to  Deity  full  actual  prescience  and 
thereby,  as  a  logical  necessity,  depriving  Him  of  the 
highest  attribute  of  creative  power,  and  the  other  in 
which  a  self-imposed  limit  to  His  prescience  still  makes 
the  continued  exercise  of  free  creative  efforts  with  intel 
ligent  design  and  adaptation  possible  both  to  the  finite 
and  the  Infinite  Intelligence,  the  reader  will  judge  which 
is  the  more  reverent,  which  attributes  the  greater  wis 
dom,  and  which  most  honors  the  Omniscient. 

In  here  ending'my  review  of  this  remarkable  argu 
ment  of  Edwards,  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  in 
my  efforts  to  expose  its  fallacies,  as  also  in  the  direct 
argument  which  I  have  presented  in  favor  of  freedom,  I 
have  been  actuated  by  a  desire  to  find  truth  and  to 
eradicate  error,  and  though  I  have  sought  to  meet  the 


CONCLUSION.  415 

subtle  reasoning  of  the  great  advocate  for  necessity 
with  his  own  weapons,  I  am  not  conscious, that  either 
the  ardor  incident  to  polemical  discussion,  the  pride 
of  opinion,  or  any  vain  ambition  for  victory  has  ever 
diverted  me  from  these  objects.  On  one  other  point  I 
would  make  a  suggestion.  It  is  in  the  domain  of  the 
spiritual  that  the  highest  attributes  of  Deity  are  most 
especially  manifested.  In  entering  it,  we  pass,  as  it 
were,  from  the  material  workmanship,  the  magnificent 
— the  stupendous  and  harmonious  grandeur  of  which  so 
exalts  our  conceptions  and  so  fills  us  with  wonder,  to 
that  inner  sanctuary  of  thought  in  which  all  this  gran 
deur  is  designed,  and  there  find  that  it  is  but  the 
massive  base  of  an  ethereal  superstructure  still  more 
admirable  and  sublime.  To  explore  this  domain  is  the 
province  of  the  metaphysician,  and  however  reverently 
he  may  perform  his  office,  he  is  often  subjected  to  the 
imputation  of  profanely  entering  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
and  of  being  rudely  familiar  with  sacred  things.  How 
far  I  have  avoided  what  would  justify  such  imputation, 
and  how  far  my  efforts  to  advance  truth  have  been  suc 
cessful,  that  portion  of  a  small  class  of  readers  still 
attracted  by  the  subject,  of  whom  it  may  be  my  good 
fortune  to  obtain  audience,  will  decide,  and  they  will 
perhaps  indulge  me  in  closing  this  work  with  the  ex 
pression  of  an  earnest  hope  that  it  will  be  conducive  to 
the  progress  and  elevation  of  man,  and  a  sincere  belief 
that  nothing  in  it  will  be  found  to  lessen  the  love,  rev 
erence,  and  homage,  which  even  the  most  abstract  con 
templation  of  the  Character  of  the  Most  High  tends  to 
inspire. 


APPENDIX 


18' 


APPENDIX. 
NOTES   TO   BOOK   I. 

NOTE  I.   P.  7. 

These  views  may  explain  the  difficulty  of  applying  mathemati 
cal  reasoning  to  other  subjects.  In  these  we  have  to  apply  our 
definitions  to  something  that  exists  independent  of  the  definitions, 
and  there  is  great  difficulty  in  doing  this  accurately.  Another 
difficulty  is  in  comparing  the  relations  of  things  not  homogeneous 
in  their  nature.  In  mathematics  we  deal  with  nothing  but  quanti 
ty,  and  the  whole  scope  of  the  comparison  is  as  to  its  equality,  or 
inequality,  under  different  forms.  The  definitions  must  be  perfect, 
for  they  determine  the  thing  defined ;  and  all  the  truths  of  Geom 
etry  are  really  involved  in  these  definitions ;  the  demonstrations 
under  them  being  mere  logical  processes,  showing  that  they  are  so 
involved,  or  that  what  is  true,  when  stated  in  one  way  in  the 
definitions,  is  also  true  when  stated  in  another  way  in  the 
propositions.  * 

NOTE  II.     P.  9. 

"We  may  also,  in  some  cases,  avoid  or  discard  sensations  by 
acts  of  will.  In  regard  to  objects  of  vision,  we  may  shut  our  eyes, 
or  direct  them  to  other  objects,  and  may,  at  least  in  some  degree, 
modify -many  other  sensations  by  directing  the  attention  to  or  from 
them  by  direct  acts  of  will.  By  will  we  may  select  from  among 
external  objects  the  subjects  of  our  attention.  Though  we  and 
other  intelligences  may  be  at  work  altering,  at  each  moment  we 
recognize  by  the  senses  only  what  is  and  not  what  will  be.  "What 


420  APPENDIX. 

we  have  now  observed  of  those  sensations,  which  we  refer  to  ex 
ternal  objects,  is  also  true  of  those  physical  sensations,  which  arise 
from  our  own  material  organism..  Those,  too,  are  external  to  the 
mind  and  independent  of  the  will.  "We  cannot,  by  will,  feel,  or 
avoid  feeling  hungry ;  and  most  persons  in  a  normal  condition  can 
very  faintly  even  recall  or  imagine  the  sensation  of  bodily  pain. 
In  sleep,  that  state  in  which  the  soul  seems  most  independent  of 
the  external  senses,  it  has  this  power ;  and  in  some  conditions 
almost  perfectly ;  indicating  that  we  have  undeveloped  spiritual 
faculties  by  which  we  may  retain  the  physical  sensations,  without 
the  material  organs  of  sense. 

NOTE  III.   P.  13. 

In  the  bodily  movements  we  are  conscious  of  acting,  upon  dis 
tinct  members  occupying  distinct  positions  in  space,  and  that  when 
we  move  the  hand  and  when  we  move  the  foot  there  is  a  differ 
ence  both  in  the  object  and  in  the  effort.  There  is  generally  some 
remoter  object  of  an  effort  for  bodily  movement,  as  to  move  from 
one  place  to  another  by  walking,  using  our  limbs  as  the  instru 
ment  for  this  purpose. 

In  the  efforts  for  mental  change  we  may  perhaps  be  conscious 
of  using  the  material  organism  of  the  brain  as  an  instrument,  but 
if  so,  as  this  occurs  in  every  kind  of  effort,  it  furnishes  no  means 
of  distinguishing  the  efforts  from  each  other.  Perhaps  we  only 
resort  to  the  organic  brain  as  a  means  of  exciting  sensations  in  the 
mind,  which  we  use,  as  we  use  language,  symbols,  or  counters,  to 
condense  and  to  mark  the  progress,  positions,  or  relations  of  our 
ideas.  If,  as  the  phrenologists  assert,  we  use  different  portions  of 
the  brain  for  different  jfrocesses  or  objects,  still  these  portions  have 
been  named  from  these  processes  or  objects,  and  have  not  fur 
nished  the  name  for  the  corresponding  efforts,  and  what  they  assert, 
if  established,  would  not  indicate  different  active  agents  or  powers, 
but  only  that  the  same  active  agent  in  its  different  efforts  uses  dif 
ferent  organic  instruments. 

NOTE  IV.    P.  16. 

In  the  first  class  of  these  cases,  any  effort  of  which  we  are  con 
scious  is  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  terms,  rather  than  to 
judge  as  to  the  truth  they  express  when  understood;  but  in  the 


APPENDIX.  421 

last  case,  the  truth  is  no  less  really  involved  in  the  terms  than  in 
the  others,  hut  heing  less  obviously  so,  effort  is  required  to  dis 
cover  it.  If,  instead  of  seeking  to  know  the  truth  of  the  expression, 
that  the  angles  of  a  plane  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles,  we 
seek  to  find  the  measure  of  those  angles,  the  case  will  more  widely 
differ  from  the  first  class.  The  limit  of  simple  perception,  or  of 
the  capacity  for  perceiving  truth  without  previous  effort  in  arrang 
ing  our  knowledge  of  the  subject,  varies  not  only  in  'different 
individuals,  but  in  the  same  individual  at  different  times.  If  this 
capacity  were  infinite,  the  acquisition  of  any  knowledge  whatever 
would  require  no  other  effort  than  that  of  directing  attention  to 
the  subject,  and  if  the  attention  of  a  being  of  such  capacity  could 
also  embrace  all  objects,  every  truth  would  be  immediately  appre 
hended  by  it.  Such  a  being  would  be,  or  at  least  could  be,  om 
niscient. 

NOTE  Y.    P.  25. 

In  regard  to  processes  of  thought,  a  question  arises  somewhat 
analogous  to  that  hereafter  suggested  in  regard  to  matter  in  motion, 
viz. : — Does  it  require  an  effort,  an  exercise  of  power,  to  continue 
or  to  stop  them?  The  mind  is  pursuing  a  logical  train,  does  it 
require  the  exercise  of  the  will  at  each  step  to  advance  it  ?  or  can 
it,  by  simple  perception  of  the  relations  of  the  terms,  anticipate  the 
successive  steps,  and  going  on  without  any  exercise  of  the  will,  re 
quire  such  exercise  to  stop  it  at  any  point  short  of  the  final  result 
of  the  argument,  or  of  the  mind's  non-perception  of  any  further 
results  ?  It  is  obvious  that  the  simple  perceptions  of  the  mind  at 
every  stage  of  the  logical  process,  whether  such  perceptions  have 
or  have  not  required1  a  preliminary  effort,  have  a  determinate 
limit  beyond  which  the  mind  has  not  progressed,  and  that  it  is  here 
for  the  instant  arrested  till,  either  by  its  own  effort  or  by  some 
extrinsic  power,  the  obstruction  to  its  mental  vision  is  removed,  or 
such  arrangements  made  of  its  ideas  as  will  enable  it  to  get  another 
perception  reaching  farther  into  the  subject.  The  perception  is 
always  immediate  and  instantaneous ;  there  is  no  momentum  car 
rying  it  beyond  the  point  to  which  the  mind  actually  sees.  A 
gleam  from  truth  may  flash  upon  us  and  be  immediately  lost,  requir 
ing  further  search  to  find  the  gem ;  and  when  found  we  may  deem 
closer  examination  requisite  to  ascertain  if  it  is  pure  and  genuine. 


422  APPENDIX. 

However  this  may  be,  it  seems  certain  that  the  mind  cannot  direct 
ly  determine  the  successive  steps  by  a  mere  act,  or  exercise  of  its 
will ;  for  these  must  depend  upon  the  absolute  relations  which  the 
mind  perceives  among  the  terms  of  the  argument ;  and  hence,  the 
result  is  not  a  product  of  the  will,  though  the  process  by  which  the 
result  is  reached,  or  made  palpable  to  simple  mental  perceptions 
may  be,  and  generally  is.     So  of  those  other  processes  of  thought 
in  which  the  mind  examines  and  searches  for  truth  without  the 
intervention  of  words ;  directly  analyzing,  combining  and  comparing 
the  objects  of  its  thoughts,  as  originally  perceived  or  apprehended,  in 
stead  of  first  putting  them  in  words.    The  observed  relations  here, 
too,  control  the  progress  of  the  thoughts,  and  the  final  result  is  not 
dependent  on  the  will.     The  only  difference  bet  ween  the  two  cases 
is,  that  in  pursuing  the  one,  the  logical  train,  the  mind  is  directed 
to  its  conclusions  by  the  relations  it  perceives  among  the  terms, 
while  in  the  other,  it  is  directed  by  the  relation  sit  perceives  among  " 
the  things  themselves.     If  we  happen  to  see  two  fragile  bodies 
moving  rapidly  toward  each  other  in  the  same  right  line,  we, 
with  our  past  experience,  may  perceive,  without  any  effort  of  will, 
that  one  or  both  will  be  broken  ;  and  if  we  have  in  view  the  ex 
pression  x  —  1  =  5,  we  may  in  like  manner  perceive  that  x  =  6 ; 
and  so  of  more  complicated  forms  of  expression.     Though  we  may 
will  to  seek  out  the  relations,  we  cannot  by  will  change  our  per 
ceptions  of  the  relations  which  we  perceive  whether  sought  or 
unsought.     They  are  real  and  immutable   existences  or   truths 
which  we  cannot  alter  by  will  or  exclude  from  our  belief  any  moro 
than  on  examining  the  subject  we  can  by  will  exclude  the  results 
that  2  +  2=4,  or  that  all  the  angles  of  a  plane  triangle  are  equal  to 
two  right  angles.     So  far  then  as  our  knowledge  is  derived  from' 
sensation  and  from  thought,  the  influence  of  our  exercise  of  will  is 
limited  to  the  quantity  of  time  and  the  amount  of  effort  we  apply  to 
its  acquisition ;  and  to  a  selection  from  among  the  various  subjects 
suggested  by  external  or  internal  agencies,  to  which  this  time  and 
effort  shall  be  directed.     These  questions  as  to  whether  an  effort 
of  the  mind  is  required  to  continue  or  to  stop  its  train  of  thought, 
or  whether  it  can  recognize  certain  consequences  of  its  observations 
or  certain  relations  of  its  thoughts  without  such  effort,  are  really 
questions  as  to  the  limits  of  simple  mental  perception,  and  are 


APPENDIX.  423 

Btill  more  analogous  to  those  relating  to  sensation  than  to  matter 
in  motion.  I  see  a  tree  and  a  stone  before  me  without  any  effort. 
How  far  I  perceive  the  relations  of  the  two  without  effort  maybe  a 
question ;  and  so,  also,  it  may  not  be  ascertained  how  far  the  mind 
perceives  the  relations  of  its  ideas  or  of  its  various  knowledge 
without  effort,  and  this  is  not  essential  to  our  inquiry.  For  this, 
the  facts  that  we  have  some  knowledge,  intuitive  or  acquired, 
without  effort,  and  that  by  proper  effort  our  knowledge  may  be 
increased,  are  sufficient.  We  cannot  by  will  vary  the  facts 
or  truths  as  they  appear  to  the  mind,  nor  even  wholly  exclude 
them.  To  be  able  to  vary  them  by  will,  would  be  but  an  ability 
to  destroy  our  power  to  find  truth.  Mind  cannot  banish  any 
thought  or  thing  from  it  by  direct  effort  or  will,  for  to  will  not  to 
think  of  or  not  to  attend  to  anything  is  still  to  think  of  or  to  attend  to 
it,  and  it  is  only  by  directing  its  thoughts  to  something  else,  that  it 
can  by  effort  get  rid  of  its  present  thoughts  or  images.  It  cannot 
always  avoid  them.  Other  intelligences,  infinite  and  finite,  have, 
to  some  extent  the  power  to  impress  their  thoughts,  their  creations, 
upon  us,  whether  we  will  or  not.  In  regard  to  the  power  of  the 
mind  to  control  the  results  of  its  investigations,  it  may,  perhaps,  be 
urged  that  we  will  to  examine  only  those  facts  and  arguments 
which  lead  to  the  particular  result  which  we  wish  to  establish, 
avoiding  those  on  the  other  side.  But,  in  such  case,  a  man  con 
scious  of  this  cannot  be  said  to  have  acquired  any  knowledge.  He 
may  be  prepared  to  assume  and  defend  a  position,  but  the  fact  that 
he  has  intentionally  made  his  examination  a  partial  one  for  the 
very  purpose  of  arriving  at  the  particular  result,  and  done  so  from 
apprehension  that  an  impartial  examination  would  not  lead  to  it,  is 
conclusive  upon  himself  that  he  knows  the  result  is  not  to  be  relied 
upon ;  and  hence,  he  must  be  in  doubt  as  to  the  result,*  or  rather, 
just  so  far  as  he  has  interfered  by  his  will,  he  has  entirely  failed  to 
obtain  any  knowledge  ;  and,  of  course,  the  result  cannot  affect  the 
conclusion  we  have  just  arrived  at  in  regard  to  the  relations  of  will 

*  This  is  probably  the  foundation  of  a  not  uncommon  religious  belief  that,  before 
we  can  know  anything  aright,  the  will  must  be  brought  into  a  state  of  subjection  to  God: 
that  we  must,  in  contemplating  His  manifestations  become  passive — become  as  a  little 
child— which  having  formed  no  theory,  and  having  no  interest  to  pervert  truth,  pas 
sively  perceives  and  accepts  the  conclusions  from  observation  and  reflection,  without 
any  inclination  or  effort  to  mould  them  to  its  prejudices,  prido  of  opinion,  or  interest. 


424  APPENDIX. 

to  our  knowledge.  What  we  have  said  on  this  subject  is  equally 
applicable  to  all  our  beliefs  and  opinions,  of  every  degree  of  cer 
tainty  or  probability.  "We  cannot  control  them  in  the  process  of 
acquisition ;  and  once  acquired,  they  cannot  be  changed  by  our 
merely  willing  such  change.  The  opposite  view  that  belief  is  de 
pendent  on  the  will  seems  to  have  led  to  honest  persecution  for 
opinions  deemed  heretical. 

NOTE  YI.    P.  25. 

As  the  mind  cannot  act  except  by  exercising  some  of  its  powers? 
every  act  of  mind  is  an  effort  or  act  of  will ;  and  the  phrases,  acts 
of  will,  acts  of  mind,  and  mental  action,  are  really  synonymous, 
If  the  mind  is  moved,  except  in  or  by  the  exercise  of  its  own  power, 
it  must  be  Ipy  some  extrinsic  power,  and  so  far  is  as  passive  in  such 
movement  as  is  the  stone  which  is  so  moved.  It  is  not  itself  then 
active,  but  is  the  passive  subject  of  action.  "We  may  be  moved  by 
external  agencies  and  in  this  be  passive ;  when  we  move  ourselves 
we  must  be  active  and  we  have  no  means  of  moving  ourselves  ex 
cept  by  act  of  will  or  effort.  We  are  moved  by  distress  to  pity, 
without  our  own  action ;  the  emotion  springs  directly  from  knowl 
edge,  which  may  have  required  no  effort ;  but  when  we  would 
relieve  that  distress  by  any  act  of  our  own,  we  must  will — make 
effort.  In  acquiring  knowledge, — in  learning  what  is — by  simple 
mental  perception,  either  of  things  or  ideas,  the  mind  may  make  no 
effort.  But  when  it  seeks  by  the  exercise  of  its  own  powers  to 
know  something  which  it  does  not  now  know,  or  to  do  anything 
whatever  to  change  the  existing  state  of  things — to  influence  the 
future — it  must  make  e'ffort,  it  must  will ;  and  conversely,  whatever 
is  done  without  its  effort  is  not  done  by  it,  but  must  be  by  some 
other  power  of  which  it  can  at  most  be  but  an  instrument. 

The  deciding  and  the  willing  of  the  mind  are  sometimes  con 
founded.  The  phrases  decided  to  do  and  willed  to  do  are  frequently 
used  as  equivalent.  This  arises  from  a  decision  being,  at  least 
very  generally,  preliminary  to  an  act  of  will ;  but  there  are  many 
decisions  of  the  mind  which  involve  no  coexisting  or  subsequent 
act  of  will,  as  its  conclusions  in  regard  to  abstract'truths,  or  when 
it  decides  not  to  attempt  any  change,  not  to  interfere  by  any  exer 
cise  of  its  power  with  the  course  of  events.  In  this  last  case,  as 
die  willing  is  the  means  by  which  we  effect  change,  if  the  decision 


APPENDIX.  •      425 

is  the  willing,  we  should  have  to  say  we  willed  not  to  will.  There 
is  a  manifest  distinction  between  the  cases  in  which  the  decision 
is  not,  and  those  in  which  it  is,  attended  or  followed  by  some 
action  to  effect  change.  In  the  latter  we  are  conscious  that  the 
decision  is  followed  by  a  mental  affection,  which  we  term  effort, 
and  without  which  the  effect,  though  we  may  conceive  of  it  and 
view  it  as  in  itself  desirable,  would  not  follow.  The  decision  is 
the  final  conclusion  or  judgment  of  the  mind  as  to  doing ;  and 
when  it  has  decided  to  do,  it  executes  its  decision,  so  far  as  it  has 
power,  by  an  effort.  It  does  or  tries  to  do  what  it  decided  to 
do.  A  decision  or  final  judgment  is  but  an  addition  to  our  knowl 
edge,  in  some  cases  as  to  what  already  is  or  will  be,  and  in  others 
as  to  what  is  best  for  us  to  do.  This  -decision  or  judgment  may 
have  been  an  immediate  perception,  or  it  may  have  required  a 
preliminary  effort,  but  this  does  not  conflict  with  the  assertion  that 
the  decision  is  not  the  willing,  but  tends  to  confirm  it,  as  knowl 
edge,  whether  a  simple  perception  o"r  acquired  by  effort,  is  not  an 
act  of  will. 

NOTE  VII.    P.  32. 

Professor  Bowen,  in  his  very  able  "  Lowell  Lectures,"  gives  a 
negative  reply  to  all  these  positions.  He  rests  his  conclusions  on 
the  premise  that  matter  cannot  move  itself  or  direct  its  own  mo 
tion,  which  is  also  the  basis  of  my  reasoning,  and  I  do  not  perceive 
that  his  reaches  farther  than  mine,  or  proves  that  matter-  in  mo  tion 
may  not  be  an  independent  cause  or  that  it  could  not  be  used  as 
an  instrument  to«prolong  and  extend  the  effects  of  intelligent 
action.  I  much  desired  to  make  such  proof,  but  found  no  way  to 
do  it.  I  desired  it  not  only  to  simplify  the  question  of  free  agency, 
but  also  to  facilitate  the  proof  that  God  still  exists ;  which  we  both 
treat  as  deducible  from  the  proposition  that  matter  has  no  causa 
tive  power. 

I  may  here  further  observe  that  the  views  I  have  advanced  in 
Book  IL,  in  regard  to  the  law  of  cause  and  effect,  and  my  inference, 
from  the  observed  uniformity  of  things  external  to  us,  of  a  design  in 
the  Supreme  Intelligence  to  provide  for  finite  free  agents,  also 
closely  resemble- those  put  forth  by  Professor  Bowen.  My  conclu 
sions  on  all  these  topics  having  been  reached,  written,  and  dis 
cussed  with  my  friends,  before  his  lectures  were  delivered,  could 


426      »  APPENDIX. 

not  have  been  influenced  even  by  the  infusion  and  circulation  of  his 
views  in  the  common  atmosphere  of  thought,  and  hence  are  entitled 
to  that  greater  consideration  and  credence,  which  are  properly 
accorded  to  the  concurrent  results  of  independent  mental  action. 

XOTE  VIII.   P.  35. 

•  If  bodies  in  motion  produce  effects  on  other  bodies  by  imping 
ing  against  them,  it  must  be  by  giving  motion  to  those  at  rest,  or 
by  stopping,  retarding,  accelerating,  or  changing  the  direction  of 
those  in  motion ;  and  if  moving  bodies  strike  on  opposite  sides  of 
a  body  at  rest,  it  cannot  move  both  ways  at  the  same  time ;  and 
hence,  a  loss  of  some  of  the  power  of  matter  in  motion.  If  bodies 
impinge  with  equal  aggregate  force  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
same  body,  then  the  motive  power  of  all  such  impinging  bodies 
may  be  destroyed  and  no  new  force  is  communicated  to  the  inter 
vening  body.  If  the  bodies  thus  impinging  either  on  an  interven 
ing  body  or  directly  against  each  other,  are  perfectly  elastic,  then 
so  far  as  our  observation  informs  us,  they  would  acquire  equal 
force  in  the  opposite  directions,  and  the  result  would  be  the  same 
as  though  no  body  had  intervened  and  no  direct  collision  occurred 
except  that  the  impinging  particles  would  have  exchanged  with 
each  other  and  each  turned  back  on  the  lines  on  which,  but  for 
the  collision,-  the  other  would  have  moved.  But  in  case  of  such 
elasticity  it  is  demonstrable  that  the  impinging  bodies  must  come 
to  a  state  of  rest,  and  being  but  inert  matter,  they  could  not  put 
themselves  in  motion  again. 

If,  as  is  now  asserted,  the  force  of  the  impuiging  bodies,  when 
they  are  arrested,  is  converted  into  heat,  still  that  heat  often  as 
sumes  a  passive  form,  as  in  coal,  requiring  some  active  cause  to 
develope  and  make  it  efficient,  and  in  this  view  the  heat  which 
is  stored  in  the  coal  is  but  an  instrument  by  which  this  cause 
makes  itself  effective.  It  matters  little  to  our  argument  whether 
the  active,  cause  produces  force  by  means  of  the  heat  reserved 
in  the  coal  or  by  putting  quiescent  matter  in  motion. 

NOTE  IX.    P.    35. 

The  apparent  power  of  matter  in  motion  to  produce  effects,  of 
course  without  design  in  the  matter,  is  probably  the  foundation  of 
those  notions  of  a  blind  chance  in  the  succession  of  events,  which, 


APPENDIX.  427 

in  some  form  or  other,  seem  always  to  have  had  a  place  in  the 
popular  mind.  Matter  once  put  in  motion  by  intelligence  might, 
after  it  had  produced  all  the  effects  intended,  go  on  to  produce 
other  effects ;  or  hefore  the  completion  of  the  intended  effects,  it 
might  produce  other  effects  which  were  not  intended.  These  are 
said  to  come  to  pass  by  chance  or  accident,  and  though  frequently 
used  interchangeably,  I  think  that  in  common  discourse  the  former 
is  more  generally  applied  to  effects  without  or  beyond  the  scope  of 
the  design,  and  the  latter  to  such  as  incidentally  happen  within  it, 
and  are  either  unexpected  or  counter  to  the  design. 

NOTE  X.    P.  38. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  this  energy  is  really  con 
stant  everywhere.  If  all  changes  in  matter,  and  all  activity  within 
the  universe  of  our  knowledge,  were  suddenly  suspended  and  to 
remain  so  for  millions  of  years,  as  measured  by  something  without 
that  universe,  and  all  simultaneously  put  in  motion  again,  begin 
ning  where,  or  as,  it  left  off,  we  never  could  know  it.  The  suc 
cession  would  be  the  same  to  us  as  if  there  had  been  no  interruption. 

NOTE  XI.    P.    39. 

It  is  only  by  a  figure  of  speech  or,  perhaps  a  contraction  of 
language,  that  matter  is  said  to  do  anything ;  and  the  recent  change 
of  expression  from  "  moving  "  to  "  being  moved  "  is,  so  far,  more 
strictly  philosophical. 

NOTE  XII.    P.  43. 

This  finite  presence,  or  presence  co-extensive  with  knowledge, 
answers  all  the  purposes  of  spirit,  for,  if  we  exclude  the  phenome 
na  of  the  bodily  sensations  and  muscular  action,  nothing  is  gained 
by  our  being  actually  moved  in  -space  ;  and  hence,  so  far  as  our 
spiritual  nature  is  concerned,  this  finite  presence  of  man  within  the 
sphere  of  what  he  actually  knows  is  as  perfect  as  the  omnipresence 
of  the  Supreme  Being  in  His  infinite  sphere  of  knowledge.  Our 
limited,  incomplete  and  fading  knowledge  in  many  things  requires 
to  be  renewed  and  augmented  by  means  of  the  senses  which,  for 
this  purpose,  must  be  brought  within  sensible  distance  of  their 


4:28  APPENDIX. 

NOTE  XIII.    P.  47. 

It  seems  that  by  long  dwelling  on  an  idea,  or  from  some  excited 
or  abnormal  sensitiveness  of  the  mind,  it  sometimes  loses  the 
power  to  change  or  annihilate  its  own  creations,  and  they  become 
to  it  as  external  realities,  producing,  if  partial,  monomania,  or,  if 
general,  causing  one  species  of  insanity. 

NOTE  XIV.   P.  49. 

It  may  be  apprehended  by  some  that  this  ascribing  all  the  crea 
tive  powers  of  Deity  to  man,  in  however  small  degree,  may  unduly 
arouse  his  pride  and  excite  his  presumption.  If  there  be  such  a 
one,  let  him  essay  any  comparison,  even  the  most  trifling.  Let  him 
observe  yonder  towering  elm  mirthfully  rustling  its  foliage  as  if 
titillated  by  the  awkward  attempts  of  its  neighboring  spire  to 
appear  graceful.  Or  first  looking  upon  nature, — the  great  picture 
which  God  exhibits  to  us  as  His  own  creation, — turn  from  it  to 
the  most  exquisite  painting  of  a  Claude  Lorraine  or  a  Salvator 
Eosa,  perhaps  grouping  a  few  trees,  a  glimpse  of  water,  a  speck  of 
green  sward,  floating  clouds  and  dubious  rays  of  sunshine,  &c.,  &c., 
and  in  the  comparison,  the  works  of  man,  even  those  which,  as  the 
highest  efforts  of  his  creative  genius,  excite  our  profoundest  admi 
ration,  will  appear  sufficiently  Lilliputian,  sufficiently  paltry  and 
insignificant,  not  to  say  mean  and  even  ludicrous,  to  induce  a  be 
coming  modesty,  to  attemper  his  pride  and  humble  all  that  is 
haughty  and  arrogant  in  his  nature ;  and  in  the  comparison  he 
may  realize  that  there  is  something  more  than  a  mere  abstraction 
in  the  mathematical  dogma  that  no  increase  of  the  finite  can  alter 
its  ratio  to  the  infinite.  He  may  here  observe,  too,  what  we  have 
before  intimated,  that  the  conceptions  of  the  human  mind  are 
more  perfect,  more  Godlike,  than  the  expression.  For  ourselves, 
we  apprehend  no  evil  tendency  in  the  exaltation  of  man  to  the 
conscious  dignity  and  responsibility  of  a  being  endowed  with  crea 
tive  power.  We  believe  he  is  too  apt  to  take  debasing  views  of 
himself,  to  consider  meanness  and  wrong  as  appropriate  or  necessary 
to  his  condition  and  attributable  to  the  natural  weakness  and  imper 
fections  of  his  being,  rather  than  to  his  own  agency,  or  his  own 
neglect  properly  to  exercise  the  powers  he  has  at  command.  "We  be 
lieve,  too,  that  it  is  essential  to  even  an  imperfect  conception  of  any 
one  of  God's  attributes,  that  we  should  ourselves  possess  it  in  some 


APPENDIX.  429 

measure.  Without  this,  we  have  no  means  of  estimating  the  vast 
difference,  and  can  no  more  form  even  a  remote  conception  of  how 
much  greater  God  is  than  His  creatures,  than  we  can  tell  the  pro 
portion  between  seven  acres  and  three  hours.  The  proper  effect 
then  of  the  finite  mind  having  the  same  attributes,  is  to  enable  it 
to  form  more  adequate  conceptions  of  the  Infinite  and  make  itself 
more  sensible  of  its  inferiority ;  and  if,  as  we  have  supposed 
may  be  the  case,  its  efforts  are  made  effective  through  the  uniform 
modes  of  God's  action,  the  finite  becomes  wholly  dependent  on  the 
Infinite  for  the  execution  of  its  designs  and  for  the  effectiveness  of  its 
efforts;  and  these  considerations,  in  this  connection,  are  eminently 
calculated  to  inspire  gratitude  and  imbue  us  with  humility. 

NOTE  XY.    P.  58. 

As  already. remarked,  a  being,  satisfied  with  things  as  they  are, 
cannot  be  said  to  feel  a  want,  and  he  makes  no  effort,  he  does  not 
will  any  change.  If  he  perceives  that  causes  external  to  him  are 
doing  what  he  wants  done  without  his  'agency,  then,  if  his  want  is 
only  to  have  it  done  or  to  know  that  it  will  be  done,  his  want  is 
gratified  by  perceiving  that  it  will  be  done.  But  perhaps  he  wants  to 
know  that  it  is  actually  done  by  these  external  causes ;  and  to  this 
end  an  effort  of  attention  is  still  required  to  gratify  his  want. 

NOTE  XVI.   P.  61. 

Even  in  cases  of  instinctive  action,  though,  for  reasons  hereafter 
stated,  we  do  not  have  to  seek  for  knowledge  to  apply,  or  even  to 
arrange  the  order  of  successive  efforts,  still  it  seems  impossible  that 
we  should  conform  our  action  to  the  perceived  circumstances — to 
the  occasion  demanding  such  action — without  some  intermediate 
effort,  however  instantaneous  it  may  be,  the  need  of  which 
effort,  as  .already  suggested,  may  be  intuitively  known.  However 
this  may  be,  we  early  learn  the  importance  of  considering  the  cir 
cumstances  before  we  yield  to  instinctive  impulses,  and  of  adapt 
ing  our  actions  to  them,  and  thus  are  led  to  introduce  conscious 
deliberation,  either  as  a  wholly  new  element  or  as  an  increase  of  one 
already  existing,  thereby  changing  the  features  or  character  of  the 
action. 


430  APPE1STDIX. 

NOTE  XVII.    P.  T5. 

CONFLICTING  WANTS. — There  may  be  conflicting  wants  between 
which  the  mind  must  decide.  If,  for  instance,  a  man  with  only 
bread  and  water  at  command  is  both  hungry  and  thirsty,  he 
must  decide  which  want  he  will  first  make  effort  to  relieve. 
Or  if,  with  the  want  to  move  out  of  some  apprehended  danger, 
there  is  tjo-existing  the  conflicting  want  of  bodily  repose,  then  he 
must  decide  between  them  by  a  comparison  of  his  preconceptions 
of  the  future  effects  of  his  conduct.  No  matter  how  short  the  plan 
of  action,  or  of  how  few  steps  it  may  be  composed,  he  may  make 
the  comparison.  Even  if  the  conflict  is  merely  between  effort  and 
repose,  one  of  the  preconceptions  being  then  limited  to  the  mere 
making  of  effort,  if  we  perceive  in  advance  that  effort  will  be  pain 
ful  or  pleasurable,  it  furnishes  a  subject  of  comparison  with  the 
painful  or  pleasurable  effects  of  not  making  the  effort. 

It  is  conceivable  that  wemaj  want  not  to  make  any  effort,  and 
that,  under  the  influence  of  this  want,  we  would  not  examine  as 
to  any  effort  required  by  any  other  conflicting  want.  This  is 
equivalent  to  supposing  that  there  is  no  want  of  change,  or  that 
the  want  of  repose  is  a  conflicting  and,  in  the  view  of  the  mind,  a 
permanent  want.  If,  with  this  supposed  and  eventually  paramount 
want  not  to  act,  there  is  a  co-existing,  conflicting  want,  the  mind 
must  recognize  it,  for  that  which  is  not  recognized  by  the  mind 
cannot  be  its  want.  It  cannot  then  shut  out  the  presentation  of 
the  question,  or  the  petition  of  its  other  want ;  *  and  its  subsequent 
non-action  is  proof  that  it  has  decided  upon  it. 

It  is,  however,  doubtful  whether  we  can  ever  properly  be  said 
to  have  a  want  not  to  act.  "We  may  want  to  make  effort,  but  there 
are  distinctions  between  the  want  to  make  effort,  or  the  want  of 
effort,  and  the  effort  itself.  In  the  first  place,  the  distinction  be 
tween  the  want  and  the  thing  wanted ;  and  in  the  second  place, 
that  between  the  want  of  effort  generally  and  a  particular  effort ; 
we  may  be  disposed  to  effort  and  yet  some  particular  efforts  be 
undesirable,  and  even  with  this  want  of  effort  generally,  any  par 
ticular  effort  not  yet  made  or  determined  must  be  a  preconception 

*  The  popular  idea  that  the  right  of  petition  should  be  utterly  inviolable  seems  thus 
to  have  its  origin  in  the  lowest  depths  of  the  constitution  of  our  spiritual  being.  It 
might  be  curious  to  trace  out  the  analogy  of  its  association  with  the  idea  of  liberty,  in 
its  metaphysical  and  in  Its  political  relations. 


APPENDIX.  4:31 

and  not  a  want.  Hence,  it  can  never  in  the  first  instance  be  a  con 
flicting  want,  but  only  one  of  the  modes  of  gratifying  our  want  of 
effort,  and  as  such,  as  just  intimated,  may  come  into  comparison 
with  other  preconceived  modes.  In  other  words,  what  may  be 
represented  in  terms  as  negatively  a  want  not  to  make  effort,  gen 
erally  is  either  the  absence  of  all  want,  or  the  presence  of 
the  positive  want  of  repose.  In  the  one  case  there  is 
no  disposition  or  indisposition  to  effort,  and  in  the  other,  any  such 
indisposition  arises  from  a  preconception  that  the  effort  if  made 
will  conflict  with  the  want  of  repose ;  and  hence,  is  not  the  means 
to  be  adopted  to  gratify  that  want,  and  is  subject  to  comparison 
with  other  preconceptions  of  the  effects  of  not  acting.  The  forming 
of  the  preconceptions  of  the  effect  of  acting  or  not  acting  is  itself, 
for  the  time  being,  action ;  and  if  with  the  want  of  repose  a  con 
flicting  want  is  actually  presented  to  the  mind,  it  must  decide  upon 
it,  at  least  so  far  as  to. dispose  of  it  by  considering  its  merits,  or 
deciding  not  to  consider  them. 

In  the  wants  of  activity  and  repose  we  have  the  last  analysis 
of  wants,  and  here  find  elements  which  enter  into  all  our  precon 
ceptions  for  the  gratification  of  other  wants.  The  pleasure  or  pain 
of  the  particular  effort,with  its  anticipated  consequences,  enters  into 
the  comparison  of  different  modes  of  action.  If,  when  wanting  re 
pose,  the  pain  of  effort  itself,  as  perceived  in  advance,  either  from  its 
proximity  or  other  circumstance,  appears  greater  than  the  anticipa 
ted  or  apprehended  painful  results  of  not  acting,  or  even  just  equal  to 
them,  no  further  effort  than  that  required  to  ascertain  this  fact 
will  be  made.  So,  too,  if,  when  wanting  activity,  the  pleasure  of 
effort  itself  appears  to  be  just  balanced  by  the  anticipated  conse 
quent  pain  of  acting,  or  by  the  pleasure  expected  from  not  acting, 
no  effort  will  be  made.  It  is  then  as  if  the  mind  had  no  want  to  do, 
and  it  will  not  do.  In  such  cases,  though  it  may  still  know  and 
enjoy  or  suffer,  it  is  but  the  passive  subject  of  changes  in  its  own 
sensations,  produced  by  other  and  extrinsic  causes  in  which  itself 
had  no  agency.  From  this  inert  or  passive  state  the  mind  is 
aroused  to  effort  by  want,  which  may  occur  and  recur  without  any 
antecedent  effort ;  and  then  by  means  of  its  knowledge,  which  also 
may  exist  without  antecedent  effort  to  obtain  it,  can  direct  its 
effort  intelligently. 


4:32  APPENDIX. 

NOTE  XVIII.    P.  88. 

By  memory  of  a  continuity  of  those  changes  in  our  sensations, 
the  sense  of  identity  might  still  be  preserved,  even  though  the 
will  and  all  its  pre-requisite  processes  of  thought  were  annihilated. 
Without  will,  we  might  still  know  ourselves  as  the  subjects  acted 
upon,  but  could  never  know  ourselves  as  cause.  If  this  view  is 
correct,  the  personal  identity  does  not  of  necessity  inhere  solely  in 
the  will. 

NOTE  XIX.    P.  101. 

If  our  first  parents  had  no  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  in  any 
sense,  they  must  have  been  in  constant  communication  with  God, 
and  as  immediately  directed  and  governed  by  His  will  as  mere 
matter  is. 

NOTE  XX.    P.  109. 

These  views  are  in  harmony  with  one  indicated  in  the  last 
chapter,  that  deliberation  is  superinduced  upon  some  more  primi 
tive  mental  processes. 

NOTE  XXI.    P.  115. 

Many  brute  animals  do  not. know  enough  to  flee  from  a  fire. 
The  horse  will  not  leave  his  stall,  though  the  stable  is  burning 
about  him.  We  might  suppose  him  palsied  by  terror;  but  if 
forced  away  he  runs  back  again.  It  seems  to  be  a  voluntary  act, 
founded  on  the  association  of  safety  with  his  stall.  Children, 
when  frightened,  will  in  like  manner  run  into  danger  to  seek 
refuge  in  their  mother's  arms. 

NOTE  XXII.    P.  116. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  intuitive  knowledge  varies  very 
materially  in  different  animals ;  and  there  is,  at  least,  some  ground 
for  supposing  that  it  varies  also  in  the  individuals  of  the  same 
species.  It  seems,  however,  certain  that  in  all  not  higher  in  the 
scale  of  intelligence  than  man,  voluntary  action  has  always  its  base 
in  the  instinctive,  though  the  superstructure  which  constitutes 
the  plan  of  action  may  be  wholly  rational.  This  appears  from 
the  consideration  that  the  immediate  object  of  every  act  of 
will  is  to  produce  muscular  or  mental  activity,  for  which  we 


APPENDIX.  433 

only  know  one  mode,  and  that  intuitively,  and  hence  such  action 
is  always  in  itself  instinctive.  The  difference  between  the  instinctive 
and  the  rational  is  not  in  the  knowledge  of  the  molfc  of  acting, 
but  in  the  mode  by  which  we  came  to  know  the  order  of  the  suc 
cession  of  our  acts  to  reach  the  end  sought. 

In  regard  to  the  difference  in  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  indi 
viduals  of  the  same  species  it  may  be  remarked  that  it  is  not  only 
conceivable,  but  is  matter  of  common  belief,  that  the  natural  cal 
culators,  as  the  term  implies,  have  an  intuitive  perception  of  the 
relations  of  numbers,  or,  at  least,  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  some 
mode  of  ascertaining  such  relation,  through  which  they  instinctive 
ly  reach  results  which  others  obtain  in  rational  modes  only  by 
much  time  and  labor.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  those  who 
exhibit  this  knowledge  can  give  no  more  account  of  its  origin,  or 
even  of  their  mode  of  obtaining  their  results,  than  others  can  give 
of  their  knowledge  and  modes  in  regard  to  muscular  movements. 
If  the  natural  calculator  has  only  such  intuitions  as^enable-  him 
easily  to  form  plans  by  which,  with  very  little  effort,  he  reaches 
his  results,  his  action  is  still  rational.  The  amount  of  his  knowl 
edge,  though  it  may  enable  him  to  make  his  plans  more  perfect 
and  in  less  time,  does  not  affect  the  nature  of  JJia-^ci^which  is 
still  in  conformity  to  a  plan  of  his  own  contriving,  using  his  supe 
rior  knowledge  for  that  purpose.  If  he  only  adopts  rules  or  plans 
which  he  finds  ready  formed  in  his  mind,  without  any  investiga 
tion  of  his  own,  his  action  is  instinctive.  Khe  knows  that,  by 
looking  for  it  in  his  mind,  he  will  there  perceive  the  result  as  a 
man  perceives  it  in  a  table,  without  going  through  any  process  by 
any  rule  or  plan,  the  action  approaches  as  nearly  as  possible  to 
that  produced  by  an  external  power, — to  mere  mechanical  action. 
But,  as  the  action  still  requires  an  effort  to  apply  the  knowledge  of 
this  mode  of  obtaining  the  result,  it  is  still  voluntary  and  instinctive. 
So,  also,  of  the  natural  bone  setter.  If  he  has  by  intuition  such 
knowledge  of  anatomy  as  to  enable  him  thereby  to  form  his  own 
plans,  his  action  is  as  rational  as  if  he  had  learned  the  same  at  a 
medical  college.  I  speak  of  these  phenomena  as  they  exist  in 
popular  belief,  and  have  not  given  to  them  the  examination  required 
to  form  an  intelligent  opinion  as  to  their  nature  or  existence.  I 
will,  however,  observe  that  it  only  requires  a  modified  form  of  one 
19 


434:  APPENDIX. 

of  our  senses,  an  introverted  sense  of  bodily  feeling,  to  enable  one 
to  obtain  through  it,  alf  and  perhaps  more  than'all,  the  knowledge 
of  the  anatdical  structure  of  the  system,  which  can  be  derived 
through  the  sense  of  sight  from  dissection,  or  from  the  observation 
of  prepared  specimens  ;'  and  that  it  does  not  seem  more  surprising 
that  some  men  should  intuitively  have  a  knowledge  of  the  relations 
of  numbers  and  the  results  of  their  combinations,  than  that  an  ani 
mal,  blindfolded  and  carried  by  circuitous  and  zigzag  routes,  should 
know  the  direct  course  back  to  the  point  from  whence  it  started. 

KOTE  XXIII.    P.  116. 

Winking  the  eye  when  it  needs  to  be  moistened  is  probably  in 
stinctive.  The  infant  knows  when  and  how  to  do  it  as  well  as  the 
adult,  and  apparently  does  it  with  as  much  facility.  In  the  adult 
the  attention  and  the  effort  required  to  do  it  being  almost  imper 
ceptible,  it  is  liable  to  be  confounded  with  the  involuntary  and 
mechanical  on  the  one  hand,  while  to  the  more  careful  analyst  it 
may  appear  not  certain  that  it  does  not  belong  to  the  rational  on 
the  other.  If  we  do  not  know  that  moving  the  lid  will  relieve  the 
unpleasant  feeling  in  the  eye,  we  will  not  will  to  wink  for  such 
purpose,  and  if  under  such  circumstances  the  lid  moves,  its  move 
ments  must  be  attributed  to  some  cause  not  of  us ;  and  in  such 
case,  is  as  purely  mechanical  as  the  movements  of  the  planetary 
system.* 

*  The  difficulty  in  applying  conventional  language  to  metaphysical  inquiries  is, 
perhaps,  well  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  the  distinction,  apparently  so  broad  and 
palpable  as  that  between  mechanical  and  voluntary,  is  really  not  well  defined.  In 
some  connections  the  term,  voluntary  would  apply  only  to  the  volitions.  But  it 
has  been  transferred  to  the  sequences  of  volitions  ;  and  hence,  Ife  say  the  muscu 
lar  movement  which  we  will  is  voluntary ;  but,  in  cases  of  cramp,  or  convulsion,  it 
is  involuntary  or  not  willed.  If  we  conceive  of  matter  ,as  having  been  in  motion 
from  eternity,  and  as  continuing  and  producing  movements  and  changes  of  itself, 
then  these  movements  and  changes  are  undoubtedly  mechanical ;  but  when  such 
changes  in  matter  are  produced  or  directed  by  a  voluntary  agent,  acting  mediately 
or  immediately,  their  character  is  more  or  less  changed — we  name  them  from  ap 
pearances  generally — and  when  we  do  not  recognize  the  immediate  or  present 
iicHpir  of  a  voluntary  agent,  we  call  them  mechanical.  But  how  close  and  how 
apparent  the  connection  must  be  before  the  term  voluntary  is  applicable,  does  not 
seem  to  be  well  settled.  But  all  movements  of  matter  must  probably  be  referred 
to  the  will  of  an  intelligent  being  ;  and  if  the  universe  is  the  material  form  with 
which  the  Infinite  Spirit  is  associated,  as  the  human  frame  with  its  finite  spirit, 
the  movement  of  a  planet  would,  in  this  view,  seem  to  be  as  much  a  voluntary 
movement,  as  the  movements  of  our  feet,  when  we  will  to  walk. 


APPENDIX.  435 

On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  said  that  if  a  finger  is  suddenly 
thrust  toward  the  eye  the  mind  may  immediately  perceive  or 
judge  that  there  may  not  be  time  to  consider  whether  it  will  reach 
the  eye  or  not.  The  injury  might  be  done  during  the  time  re 
quired  to  consider  this ;  and  hence,  it  is  at  once  obvious  that  to 
insure  safety  the  act  of  winking  must  be  immediate,  without  con 
sidering  any  other  plan,  the  future  consequences  of  the  action,  or 
even  the  present  necessity  for  it.  Any  confidence  which  we  might 
on  reflection  have  that  the  finger  would  not  be  thrust  upon  the 
eye,  cannot  avail,  for  the  mind  has  not  time  to  consider  this  fact. 
The  danger  appears  imminent  and  the  mind  decides  almost  instant 
aneously,  but  its  decision  may  still  be  a  result  of  the  exercise  of 
its  rational  powers  in  comparing,  &c.,  or  in  seeking  a  mode  adapted 
to  the  end  sought,  and,  if  so,  its  action  by  a  plan  founded  upon 
knowledge  thus  acquired,  or  even-  upon  knowledge  now  acquired 
by  immediate  simple  perception,  and  not  upon  an  innate  knowl 
edge  of  the  mode,  is  a  rational  action.  In  further  confirmation  of 
this  view,  it  may  be  said  that  if  the  finger  approaches  the  eye 
slowly,  it  is  not  immediately  closed ;  but  the  mind  then  judging 
that  there  is  time  to  adopt  the  usual  precaution  of  examining  the 
circumstances  preparatory  to  action,  does  examine ;  it  deliberates 
as  to  whether  it  will  be  necessary  to  make  any  effort  to  avoid  the 
finger,  and  if  so,  what  effort.  The  action  must  then  be  in  con 
formity  to  its  own  plan,  even  though  its  knowledge  of  the  mode  it 
adopts  is  intuitive ;  for  the  adopting  of  that  mode  is  an  exercise  of 
its  rational  faculties,  using  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  mode 
with  other  knowledge  to  form  its  plan  of  action  with  reference  to 
a  certain  future  result ;  and  if,  when  the  finger  moves  slowly,  the 
action,  is  a  rational  one,  it  may  be  difficult  to  determine  at  what 
particular  velocity  of  the  finger  the  action  to  avoid  it  becomes 
instinctive,  if  it  ever  does. 

But  our  previous  reasoning  would  go  to  show  that  if  an  external 
object  with  the  velocity  of  lightning  flashes  upon  the  eye,  produc 
ing  pain  or  apprehension  of  injury,  and  we  wink  for  its  relief  or 
protection,  this  may  still  be  a  rational  action,  though  it  may  not 
be  in  time  for  the  purpose  intended. 

Whether  the  action  be  instinctive  or  rational,  it  may  become 
habitual';  but  if  the  former,  nothing  is  perhaps  gained  by  the 


436  APPENDIX. 

transition  to  the  latter,  as  it  may  be  as  easy  for  the  mind  to  act 
from  the  original  intuitive  knowledge,  the  innate  conception  of  the 
mode  of  relieving  or  protecting  the  eye  by  moving  the  lid  over  it, 
as  from  memory  of  the  practice  under  the  same  mode,  even  after 
any  number  of  repetitions-.  It  is  when  we  know  of  various  modes 
of  action  adapted  to  the  same  occasions  that  habit  lessens  the  time 
and  labor  of  deciding  by  furnishing  a  mode  before  decided  upon 
under  similar  circumstances. 

I  have  stated  what  appears  to  me  to  be  the  general  rule  of  dis 
tinction  between  instinctive  and  rational  action.  To  remove  some 
of  the  difficulties  in  applying  this  rule,  to  determine  to  which  class 
certain  actions  belong,  is  perhaps  rather  in  the  province  of  the 
naturalist  than  of  the  metaphysician ;  and  by  actual  observation 
they  may,  perhaps,  be  able  to  determine  whether  the  movement 
of  the  lid  to  moisten  the  eye,  or  to  protect  it  from  external  violence, 
is,  in  either  or  both  cases,  instinctive.  I  would,  further,  here  sug 
gest  the  question,  whether  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  animals 
leads  them  to  examine  the  surrounding  circumstances  before  acting, 
and  to  conform  their  instinctive  actions  to  them  before  they  have 
learned  by  experience  to  do  so  ?  Whether,  for  instance,  if  a  kid's 
first  want  is  to  walk  to  its  mother's  breast,  and  water  intervenes, 
it  will  walk  into  it,  or  around  it,  or  not  walk  at  all  ?  That  there 
is  an  adaptation  of  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  modes  of  instinct 
ive  action  to  the  peculiar  wants  of  the  animal  is  obvious  from 
numerous  facts  already  observed,  as  that  a  chicken  will  not  go  into 
water,  while  a  duckling  will  immediately  embrace  the  first  oppor 
tunity  of  doing  so. 

NOTE  XXIV.    P.  119. 

'  Though  this  distinction  can  be  conceived  of  and  expressed  in 
terms,  it  is  yet  so  slight  as  to  raise  a  doubt  as  to  whether  it  prac 
tically  amounts  to  anything.  The  difference  in  working  from 
direct  knowledge,  or  from  the  memory  of  that  knowledge,  may 
amount  to  nothing ;  though  working  from  a  direct  knowledge,  or 
from  memory  of  previous  actions,  conformed  to  that  knowledge, 
may. 

NOTE  XXV.    P.  123. 

The  influence  of  this  saving  of  labor  in  the  plan  is  evinced  in 
the  fact  that  when  we  have  a  plan  ready  formed,  which  may  be 


APPENDIX.  437 

worked  in  and  made  a  part  of  the  one  now  required,  we  will  often 
use  it,  though  we  may  know  that  in  all  probability  less  labor  will 
be  required  to  execute  one  entirely  new. 

NOTE  XXVI.    P.  130. 

Some  persons  prefer  to  have  these  emotions  excited  without 
intellectual  effort,  as  in  games  of  mere  chance;  and  those,  who 
are  absorbed  by  the  labor  of  providing  for  physical  subsistence,  and 
who  have  no  intellectual  or  moral  wants  demanding  effort,  may 
yet  want  a  quasi  exercise  of  those  powers,  which  such  wants  would 
call  into  action,  or  want  the  excitement  which  usually  attends  such 
exercise.  They  may  want  to  be  aroused  by  effort,  but,  degraded 
by  grovelling  pursuits,  or  enervated  by  luxury,  idleness,  or  dissipa 
tion,  do  not  want  to  make  the  effort.  To  such,  if  not  controlled 
by  humane  feelings,  exhibitions  of  bullbaits*  cockfights,  and  gladi 
atorial  conflicts  afford  the  required  gratification  without  taxing 
their  own  powers.  These  views  indicate  that  a  popular  passion 
for  what  we  call  the  barbarous  sports  is  not  so  much  the  result  of 
that  savage  state  in  which  the  activities  have  full  play  in  providing 
for  personal  defence  or  security  and  for  the  absolute  wants  of  life, 
as  of  that  highly  artificial  condition  of  society  in  which  large 
portions  of  the  community  are  overtasked  in  mere  drudgery,  and 
other  large  portions  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  laboring  for 
physical  existence,  without  the  substitution  of  intellectual  or  moral 
objects  of  effort.  It  is  only  one  phase  of  sensualism.  The  Eomans, 
supported  in  luxury  by  their  slaves  and  their  conquered  provinces, 
with  the  love  of  the  coarse  and  intense  excitement  engendered  in 
war,  would,  in  times  of  repose,  naturally  resort  to  such  exhibitions 
of  effort,  intensified  to  the  sanguinary  and  violent.  The  rude 
Indian  tortures  his  captive  to  increase  his  own  security,  or  to  re 
venge  the  wrongs  of  himself  or  tribe,  and  not  fromlhat  mere  wan 
tonness  which  is  the  product  of  a  highly  artificial  and  sensual  con 
dition  of  society. 

NOTE  XXVII.    P.  140. 

When  the  knowledge  of  means  is  intuitive,  it  is  so  closely  asso 
ciated  with  the  want,  that  it  is  liable  to  be  taken  either  for  a  part 
or  for  a  necessary  consequence  of  it,  and  thus  the  knowledge  be 
confounded  with,  or  attributed  to,  the  want. 


438  APPENDIX. 

NOTE  XXVIII.    P.  147. 

LOGIC. — The  knowledge  of  abstract  truth  does  not  necessarily 
produce  any  want.  It  may  itself  be  the  object  of  an  effort,  which 
may  end  in  gratifying  the  want  which  induced  it — the  want  for 
some  particular  knowledge  or  truth.  Hence,  as  a  want  is  essential 
to  voluntary  action,  a  mere  conviction  of  truth  does  not  directly 
demand  such  action.  A  man  does  not  will  because  he  is  convinced 
by  demonstrative  argument  that  the  angles  of  a  plane  triangle  are 
equal  to  two  right  angles.  The  fact  may  gratify  a  previous  want 
to  know,  but  does  not  of  necessity  awaken  any  new  want.  A 
pleasurable  emotion  attending  the  discovery  of  the  fact,  or  the  ex 
ercise  of  his  powers  in  making  it,  may  induce  a  want  for  the  repe 
tition  of  such  emotion,  and  corresponding  efforts  of  the  mind  to 
produce  it.  A  perception  of  some  prospective  application  of  such 
knowledge  may  also  do  this.  So,  too,  if  he  is  convinced  that  a 
certain  act  is  right  and  proper,  it  does  not  influence  his  will,  unless 
he  wants  ,to  do  what  is  right  and  proper.  Touch  his  sensibilities 
by  presenting  to  him  distress,  or  so  portraying  it  that  in  imagina 
tion  it  becomes  present ;  enable  him  to  participate  in  and  to  antici 
pate  the  pleasurable  emotions  of  relieving  it,  and  a  want  to  relieve 
is  induced.* 

Hence  it  is  that  mere  logical  results,  however  high  and  holy 
the  truths  demonstrated,  do  not  touch  the  springs  of  voluntary 
action.  In  following  the  demonstrative  argument  we  but  perceive 
the  relations  between  the  terms ;  and  before  they  influence  effort, 
we  must  make  an  application  of  such  results  to  actual  existence 
and  dwell  upon  the  new  relations  evolved  by  the  new  results,  till 
they  take  hold  of  our  affections  and  assume  some  form  of  want. 
The  logic  which  merely  demonstrates,  however  clearly  and  forci 
bly,  the  advanfyges  of  holiness,  does  not  of  itself  move  us  to  effort. 

*  The  high  morality,  the  generosity  of  the  act,  in  such  cases,  consist  in  his  deriving 
pleasure  from  making  others  happy,  or  perhaps  a  higher  morality,  a  purer  disinterest 
edness  are  evinced  in  his  yielding  to  an  instinctive  or  innate  want  to  relieve  distress 
without  any  conscious  reference  to  himself,  showing  that  he  has  not  depraved  his  moral 
nature,  but  that  its  delicate  sympathies  make  the  sufferings  of  others  his  own  ;  and  re 
lieving  it  in  others,  a  relief  or  gratification  to  himself;  while  the  man  who  seeks 'out 
occasions  for  the  exercise  of  such  beneficent  feelings,  shows  that  he  has  cultivated  this 
innate  want  and  has  come  to  want  the  occasions  for  exercising  his  generosity,  or  by  vigi 
lant  examination  to  relieve  himself  even  from  the  apprehension  that  there  is  some  aa 
yet  undiscovered  suffering  requiring  his  action  to  relieve. 


APPENDIX.  439 

For  this  there  must  be  a  want,  and  to  excite  such  want  in  our 
moral  nature,  one  magnanimous  act,  one  exhibition  of  tenderness, 
one  manifestation  of  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  principle,  one 
delineation  of  true,  unselfish  love,  one  image  of  a  Eedeemer  by 
pure  and  sublime  ideas,  so  elevated  above  all  vulgar  passions  and 
resentments  as  to  look  down  with  a  divine  love  and  compassion 
upon  those  who  reviled  and  tortured  Him,  may  be  more  efficacious 
than  all  the  calculations  of  utility  which  selfishness  has  ever  sug 
gested,  or  all  the  verbal  arguments,  which  human  ingenuity  has 
ever  devised. 

Hence,  religion,  though  she  may  stoop  to  meet  the  attacks  of 
the  sceptical  logician  on  his  own  ground,  has  a  more  congenial 
ally  in  taste,  which,  in  the  moral  as  well  as  in  the  physical,  is  often 
a  precursor  and  incentive  to  want ;  in  the  former  generally  applied 
to  the  more  refined  and  cultivated  wants  of  our  spiritual  being; 
and  the  propagandist  finds  in  the  beauties  of  eloquent  expression ; 
in  the  graces,  or  the  sublimity  of  poetry ;  in*  architectural  gran 
deur  ;  in  lifelike  delineations  of  reality,  or  of  ideal  conceptions  on 
canvas ;  in  sculptured  marble,  cold  and  inflexible  as  logic  itself, 
but  still  embodying  some  lofty  conception,  or  some  form  of  beauty ; 
a  more  direct  and  ready  emotive  influence  to  arouse  the  soul  with 
a  sense  of  its  own  sublime  nature  and  inspire  it  with  devotional 
feeling,  than  it  can  command  from  the  most  towering  and  most 
successful  efforts  of  the  intellect  to  demonstrate,  in  terms,  the 
loftiest  problems  of  humanity. 

Even  in  the  concord  of  evanescent  sounds,  the  soul  finds  an 
analogy,  a  moulding  or  shadowing  to  the  senses,  of  its  own  har 
monious  variety,  of  its  own  aspirations,  swelling  Into  ecstasy  in 
effort  and  smoothly  subsiding  into  the  luxury  of  contemplative 
repose.  All  these  manifestations  of  art  may  fitly  introduce  and 
induce  a  want  for  the  development  and  cultivation  of  those  pure 
and  elevated  sentiments  of  which  they  but  give  the  first  suggestive 
taste ;  *  and  those  who  have  consecrated  the  power  of  genius  to 

*  I  trust  that  I  shall  not  be  suspected  of  intending  lightly  to  use  this  word— taste— in 
a  double  sense.  To  my  mind  there  is  a  profound  significance  in  such  relations  of  a 
term  as  I  have  here  attempted  to  shadow,  showing  how  deep,  in  the  common  reason  of 
man,  the  roots  of  his  form  of  expression  may  lie ;  and  suggesting  that,  even  if  a  merely 
arbitrary  term  is  used,  it  is  gradually  fitted  and  jostled,  by  this  common  reason,  into 
harmonious  relations  with  a  whole  range  of  ideas,  with  only  one  of  which,  in  its  first 


440  APPENDIX. 

the  service  of  truth  and  virtue,  have  ever  been  assigned  a  high 
place  among  the  benefactors  of  their  race,  while  those  who  per 
vert  it  to  make  vice  fascinating  and  seductive,  are  justly  regarded 
as  vilely  treacherous  to  God  and  man. 

When,  instead  of  the  logical  or  prosaic  mode  of  examining 
things  by  means  of  the  relations  of  the  terms  by  which  we  repre 
sent  those  things,  we  look  at  the  actual  existences  themselves  as 
recognized  by  the  senses,  or  as  made  present  to  the  mind  by  the 
exercise  of  its  poetic  powers,  the  things  are  present,  or  by  a  scenic 
illusion  appear  so,  and,  in  either  case,  any  fact  or  relation,  which 
does  not  harmonize  with  our  views  or  feelings,  presents  a  want 
of  change  to  the  mind  for  its  action. 

We  may  remark  that,  as  it  is  mainly  by  means  of  these  same 
poetic  faculties  that  the  future  effect  of  an  effort  in  gratifying  the 
want  is  made  present,  we  here  find  the  wants  and  the  means  of 
their  gratification  growing  side  by  side  in  the  same  common  soil. 
As  before  remarked,  it  is  in  the  accuracy  of  the  preconceptions  of 
the  future  and  a  proper  selection  among  them,  that  the  mind 
manifests  its  ability  in  action ;  and  hence,  the  poetic  faculty,  not 
only  by  its  power  to  examine  the  relation  of  things  as  they  pri 
marily  and  naturally  exist,  instead  of  the  relation  of  the  artificial 
terms  by  which  those  things  are  represented ;  but  by  its  prophetic 
power  of  imagining,  or  conceiving  of  what  does  not  yet  exist,  is 
really  the  basis  of  that  common  sense,  which  is  so  useful  in  the 
conduct  of  the  affairs  of  life.  He,  who  most  clearly  imagines,  con 
ceives,  foresees  the  future,  is,  so  far,  best  prepared  to  act  wisely 
and  sagaciously ;  and,  in  this  respect,  the  man  who  perceives  has 
the  advantage  of  him  who  reasons. 

The  logician  is  proverbially  liable  to  great  mistakes  in  practical 
affairs,  to  exhibitions  of  a  want  of  common  sense  ;  but  it  is  not  so 
generally  admitted  that  the  poetic  faculty  corrects,  or  avoids  the 
errors  of  the  reasoning.  It  seems  a  desecration  to  put  such  noble 
endowments  as  our  poetic  and  prophetic  faculties  to  the  vulgar, 
practical  uses  of  daily  life.  It  is  taking  the  lightning  from  the 
skies  to  be  the  drudge  of  our  workshops  ;  but  this  is  analogous  to 
the  influence  of  electricity,  much  diluted,  in  many  of  the  most 
common  and  sluggish  changes  of  matter. 

adaptation,  it  had  any  perceptible  affinity;  that  this  common  reason  perceives  and 
marks  in  expression  those  delicate  similitudes  of  thought,  which  the  reasoning  of  the 
philosopher  is  slow  in  developing 


APPENDIX.  441 

NOTE  XXIX.    P.  149. 

I  use  the  phrases  "  morally  right "  and  ^  morally  wrong,"  as 
applicable  to  the  intelligent  being  that  wills,  and  not  to  the  good 
or  evil  effects  of  his  action  generally.  Such  effects  may  be  injurious 
when  the  intentions  were  most  beneficent  and  morally  right  and 
good. 

NOTE  XXX.    P.  150. 

ON  FOEMING  PEECONOEPTIONS  AND  AOQUiEiNa  IDEAS. — The 
forming  of  a  preconception  preparatory  to  action  is  generally  a 
tentative  process ;  the  mind  noting  what  will  be  the  effect  of  one 
plan, of  action,  and  then  varying  the  plan  to  obviate  some  defect,  or 
to  ascertain  if  some  other  is  not  better.  It  may,  however,  some 
times  happen  that  the  first  plan  so  completely  fulfils  all  the  con 
ditions  required,  that  no  further  investigation  seems  necessary. 

When  the  same  want  has  repeatedly  existed  under  the  same 
circumstances,  the  mind  adopts  a  previous  plan  from  memory  and 
association  and  acts  from  habit,  saving  itself  the  labor  of  re- 
investigation.  The  investigation,  by  which  the  mind  determines 
its  preconception,  is  only  one  of  the  cases  in  which  it  applies  the 
knowledge  it  already  has  to  acquire  other  knowledge.  In  doing 
this,  it  adopts  one  of  two  modes.  It  may  examine  the  facts  pre 
sented  until  it  is  enabled  to  determine  the  truth ;  or,  after  a  partial 
examination,  it  may  form  an  hypothesis,  which  appears  probable, 
or,  at  least,  possible,  and  then  examine  whether  such  hypothesis 
is  compatible  with  all  the  facts.  In  the  former  case,  the  mind 
does  not  segk  to  arrive  at  a  particular  idea,  but  to  arrive  at  truth. 
In  the  latter,  it  seeks  to  ascertain  whether  the  idea  it  has  formed 
is  true.  If  the  object  were  merely  to  get  a  particular  idea  into  the 
mind  without  reference  to  its  fulfilling  the  conditions  required  in 
that  idea,  as,  for  instance,  its  being  true,  no  effort  for  such  object 
could  be  made ;  for  the  idea  must  then  be  in  the  mind  before  the 
want  of  it  could  be  determined,  and  the  whole  object  of  the  effort 
would  already  be  accomplished.  The  want  of  a  particular,  definite 
idea  must  be  a  want  that  is  already  gratified,  and  of  course  is  no 
longer  a  want.  No  such  want  then  can  exist,  and  no  effort  found 
ed  on  such  want  is  possible.  We  may  have  an  idea,  which  we 
perceive  is  incomplete  and  not  well  defined,  and  want  and  make 
19* 


4A2  APPENDIX. 

effort  to  complete  it,  or  to  define  it  more  accurately,  that  is,  to  get 
a  more  full,  or  more  clear  and  definite  idea  of  the  subject.  The 
mind  cannot  seek  a  particular,  definite  idea,  or  a  particular,  de 
finite  preconception ;  but  it  may  seek  an  idea,  or  a  preconception, 
which  will  fulfil  certain  conditions. 

A  man  may  want  to  know  what  the  truth  is,  without  forming 
any  definite  idea  as  to  what  that  truth  is ;  or  having  formed  a 
definite  idea  of  what  it  may  be — an  hypothesis — may  want  to  know 
if  his  hypothesis  corresponds  with  the  truth.  One,  who  can  only 
count,  will  know  that  the  product  of  7  multiplied  by  9  must  be 
some  particular  number,  as  yet  unknown  to  him.  He  wants  to 
know,  and,  on  a  partial  examination  of  the  facts,  he  perceives  that 
by  the  use  of  his  knowledge  of  counting  he  can  gratify  this  want 
to  know  the  product  of  7  by  9.  He  can  count  out  seven  piles, 
each  containing  nine  pebbles ;  or  nine  piles,  each  containing  seven 
pebbles' ;  and  then,  counting  the  whole,  arrive  at  a  result  without 
having  formed  any  previous,  hypothesis  as  to  that  result.  Here, 
however,  are  two  preconceptions  of  the  mode  to  be  pursued, 
making  seven  piles  of  nine,  or  nine  piles  of  seven,  so  obviously 
equal,  that  no  one  could  anticipate  which  another  mind  would 
adopt,  or  which  would  be  first  perceived. 

The  man  may,  however, — say  for  the  purpose  of  forming  some 
idea  of  the  number  of  pebbles  required, — prefer  to  carry  his  pre 
liminary  examination  farther.  In  doing  this,  he  may  bring  in  his 
knowledge  that,  in  counting,  he  advances  by  tens  and  goes  over 
seven  of  these  divisions  of  ten  each  in  arriving  at  seventy ;  and 
hence  infer  that  7x9,  being  less  than  7  x  10,  must  be  less  than 
seventy,  and  that  sixty -nine  pebbles  will  be  sufficient ;  and,  com 
mencing  now  with  this  hypothesis,  that  sixty-nine  may  be  the 
product  of  7  x  9,  he  counts  out  sixty-nine  and  then  makes  the 
experiment  to  ascertain  if  he  can  get  just  seven  piles,  of  nine  each, 
out  of  sixty -nine ;  and  varies  the  number  until  he  can  do  so. 

Though  this  is  not  one  of  them,  there  are  cases  in  arithmetic 
and  even  in  geometry,  in  which  the  best  mode  is  to  begin  with  an 
hypothesis  and  test  its  truth,  or  the  degree  of  its  variation ;  and, 
in  the  affairs  of  life,  it  is  generally  prudent  to  test  any  plan  or 
preconception,  as  we  would  a  mere  hypothesis.  They  admit  of  so 
great  variety  and  the  combinations  are  so  numerous^  that  the 
application  of  general  rules  is  not  practically  reliable.  They  more 


APPENDIX.  443 

nearly  resemble  the  variety  and  combination  of  the  chessboard, 
in  which  it  is  frequently  necessary  to  consider  each  of  several 
possible  moves  and  compare  the  preconceptions  of  the  effects^ 
which  we  perceive  would  result.  It  is  not  unusual  to  aid  these 
preconceptions  by  actually  changing  the  place  of  the  piece  as  pro 
posed,  and  thus  get,  by  immediate  perception,  what,  without  such 
move,  is  but  imagined,  or  conceived. 

Persons  sometimes,  having  a  vivid  conception  of  the  object 
desired,  act  hastily  to  attain  it,  without  having  fully  matured  the 
plan  of  the  successive  eiforts  required ;  and  are  liable  to  fail  in 
consequence.  Some  requisite  effort  may  not  have  been  made  at 
the  right  time,  or  in  proper  order,  or  may  have  been  overlooked 
entirely. 

NOTE  XXXI.    P.  155. 

There  is  no  selfishness  surpassing  that  of  those  who,  having 
through  life  used  all  their  means  to  obtain  for  themselves  as  much 
as  possible  of  this  world,  at  the  last  moment  seek,  by  some  judi 
cious  investment,  to  make  them  still  available  to  obtain  as  much 
as  possible  of  the  next.  *  * 

NOTE  XXXII.   P.  155. 

Perhaps  these  views  show  the  metaphysical  root  of  the  theo 
logical  and  popular  discussions  as  to  the  influence  of  works. 

NOTE  XXXIII.     P.  158. 

These  truths,  vaguely  existing  in  the  popular  mind,  or  applied 
with  too  much  latitude,  may  have  furnished  a  metaphysical  origin 
for  the  doctrine  of  "perseverance";  and  the  same  views,  applied 
to  the  extermination  of  the  wants  morally  good,  seem  to  furnish  a 
similar  foundation  for  the  belief  that  a  finite  moral  being  may  sink 
to  a  condition  of  degradation  from  which  he  has  no  power  to  rise  ; 
and  from  which  nothing  but  a  miraculous  intervention  of  Divine 
power  can  elevate  him.  As  above  intimated,  however,  there 
seems  to  be  good  reason  to  suppose  that  these  wants,  especially 
those  more  elevated,  are  so  rooted  in  our  being,  that  they  can  be 
actually  eradicated  only  with  its  annihilatijj|i ;  that  even  in  the 
lowest  stages  of  depravity,  the  inferior  wants  may  ever  supply 
temptation  and  give  occasion,  on  the  one  hand,  for  vicious  action, 
or  submissive  indulgence ;  and,  on  the  other,  for  virtuous  effort  in 


44:4:  APPENDIX. 

resistance ;  thus  furnishing  the  means  and  inducement  for  still 
lower  depths  of  debasement  and  for  more  hopeless  habitual  degra 
dation  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  affording  the  opportunity  for  re 
form,  or  for  progress  in  virtue,  to  which  all  the  higher  aspirations 
of  our  nature  will  be  incentives.  To  these,  the  Infinite  Intelligence 
ever  present  and  ever  palpable  in  its  effects ;  and  ever  mediately, 
or  immediately  in  communion  with  the  finite,  may  add  its  Divine 
influence ;  and  even  the  aid  of  one  finite  being  to  another  be  not 
wholly  unavailing  in  imparting  knowledge  and  exhibiting  moral 
beauty  in  action,  and  thus  making  it  a  want. 

NOTE  XXXIV.    P.  159. 

Intervals  of  such  calm  thought — of  repose  from  the  engross 
ments  and  excitements  of  active  temporal  pursuits — have  ever 
been  deemed  conducive  to  moral  well-being,  and,  when  occurring 
at  stated  times  and  places,  and  especially  places  set  apart  for  this 
object,  their  influence  may  be  enhanced  by  association  and  habit. 
We  have  stated  times  to  gratify  the  want  of  food. 

NOTE  XXXV.    P.  165. 

Man,  being  constituted  as  he  is, — being  what  our  observation 
of  his  earliest  existence  shows  him  to  be, — has  the  powers  and 
faculties  of  a  first  cause.  How  he  became  such  a  being  is  not 
within  the  scope  of  our  inquiry  and  is  probably  entirely  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  human  intellect.  Our  object  is  to  show  what  he 
is,  and  what  capable  of,  as  he  is,  rather  than  how  he  came  to  be  so. 

NOTE  XXXVI.    P.  171. 

I  know  a  man,  living  on  a  very  sterile  tract,  which  to  the 
most  unremitted  toil  yields  only  a  very  meagre  subsistence,  but 
who,  after  considering  a  proposal  of  his  friends  to  remove  to  a 
productive  farm  upon  which  much  less  labor  would  have  given 
him  abundance,  said,  "  When  I  think  how  much  work  I  have  done 
on  these  gravel  hills  and  stone  walls,  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of 
leaving  them."  He  but  expressed  a  common  sentiment  of  man 
kind,  which  is  as  potential  in  regard  to  the  results  of  moral  culture 
as  of  physical  labor,  and  which  has  a  specific  influence  in  produc 
ing  consistent  and  persistent  effort,  and,  of  course,  upon  stability 
of  character,  giving  to  that  which  amidst  adversity  and  temptation 


APPENDIX.  M5 

has  been  built  up  by  effort,  an  additional  advantage  over  that 
which  has  resulted  from  opportune  circumstances. 


NOTES  TO  BOOK  II. 


NOTE  XXXYII  *  P.  201. 

Edwards  adds,  in  a  note,  "  I  say  not  only  doing,  but  conducting, 
because  a  voluntary  forbearing  to  do,  sitting  still,  keeping  silence, 
&c.,  are  instances  of  persons'  conduct,  about  which  liberty  is  ex 
ercised,  though  they  are  not  so  properly  called  doing.'1'1 

NOTE  XXXVIII.    P.  241. 

This  assertion  and  the  necessary  connection  of  effect  with 
cause  make  everything  necessary;  for  everything  must  be  em 
braced  in  what  is  necessary  in  itself,  and  what  is  not  necessary  in 
itself;  and  what  is  not  necessary  in  itself  must  have  a  cause,  and 
hence,  as  an  effect  of  its  cause,  becomes  necessary,  so  that  what  is 
necessary  in  itself  and  what  is  not,  being  both  necessary,  every 
thing  is  necessary. 

NOTE  XXXIX.    P.  251. 

In  the  same  way,  there  may  be  things  relatively  impossible  to 
the  finite  intelligence,  which  impossibility,  when  perceived,  pre 
vents  its  efforts  to  do  such  things  ;  but  when  not  perceived,  has  no 
such  influence  whatever,  though  the  effort  will  still  be  unavailing 
and  the  expected  effect  will  not  follow  it, 

NOTE  XL.    P.  255. 

It  is,  perhaps,  worthy  of  remark  that  the  existence  and  the 
nature  of  a  finite  line  are  co-existing  and  self-existing  truths 
(knowledge),  which  the  mind  perceives  as  the  reasons  of  the  deter 
mination  or  end ;  as  the  preconception  which  the  mind  forms  of 
the  effect  of  its  action  is  rather  a  reason,  which  it  perceives  for  the 
determination  of  its  act  of  will,  than  a  cause  of  it. 

*  The  foot  note  on  p.  201  refers  to  Note  I. ;  it  should  read  Note  XXXVII. 


446  APPENDIX. 

NOTE  XLI.    P.  278. 

The  wise,  the  prudent,  the  industrious,  especially  do  this ; — the 
foolish,  rash,  and  indolent  decide  by  virtue  of  their  absolute  power 
so  to  do,  without  examination.  Most  men,  however,  by  experience, 
knowing  its  importance,  do  more  or  less  examine,  and  the  results  of 
such  examination  form  the  reasons  for  further  action  or  an  addi 
tion  to  those  reasons,  which  were  immediately  obvious. 

NOTE  XLII.   P.  294. 

If  it  could  be  shown  that  cause,  or  power  to  pr6duce  change, 
could  thus  be  extended  in  time,  only  in  the  case  of  matter  in  mo 
tion,  and  that  it,  by  the  changes  which  it  produced,  called  on  the 
active  powers  of  intelligence  as  a  dormant  power,  which  must 
wait  such  opportunity  to  become  cause ;  then,  matter  in  motion 
would  become  essential  to  the  activity  of  spirit,  not  merely  as 
something  to  be  acted  upon,  but  to  enable  intelligence  to  begin  to 
act  and  to  sustain  its  action  even  for  a  single  moment ;  and,  in  such 
case,  the  existence  of  matter  as  a  distinct  entity  would  be  demon 
strated,  as  also,  that  it  must  have  existed  and  been  in  motion  from 
eternity. 

NOTE  XLIII.    P.  332. 

If,  as  some  suppose,  the  mind  has  other  faculties,  as  reason,  im 
agination,  judgment,  &c.,  which  act  independently  of  the  will, 
then,  if  such  action  influences  the  action  of  the  mind,  it  is  still  the 
mind  influencing  itself.  In  the  view  which  I  have  presented  in 
Book  L,  Chap,  iii.,  these  supposed  faculties  are  but  varied  modes  of 
effort,  or  effort  for  varied  objects ;  and  any  exercise  of  them  bear 
ing  on  subsequent  acts  of  will  are  but  preliminary  acts  of  will,  de 
termining  the  final  act,  which  would  be  the  mind's  determin 
ing  the  final  act  by  its  own  preliminary  act.  In  tracing  back 
the  series  of  such  acts,  we  must  eventually  come  to  an  act  which 
was  induced  by  a  want  and  directed  by  the  mind's  knowledge,  in 
the  form  of  an  immediate  perception  of  the  means  of  gratifying  it. 
-  Such  immediate  perceptions,  in  the  first  instance,  must  be,  and  in 
most  subsequent  cases  probably  are,  of  intuitive  knowledge,  but 
may  be  of  knowledge  acquired  previously,  or  at  the  instant.  The 
known  fact,  most  frequently,  thus  perceived  and  applied  to  direct 
an  action,  is  that  the  first  effort  must  be  to  examine  the  circum- 


APPENDIX.  447 

stances  which,  as  before  intimated,  is  probably  intuitively  known. 
The  application  of  this  note  to  other  similar  arguments,  in  which 
the  "  other  faculties  of  the  mind  "  are  an  element,  will  be  obvious 
without  reiterating  it. 

NOTE  XLIV.    P.  345. 

In  the  relation  of  knowledge  to  acts  of  will,  it  is  not  often  ne 
cessary  to  distinguish  the  innate  from  the  intuitive,  the  important 
distinction  generally  being  only  between  that  which  requires  effort 
to  obtain  it  and  that  which  does  not.  In  Book  I.,  Chap,  xi.,  I  have 
argued  that  our  knowledge  that  the  mode  of  effecting  movement 
in  our  own  being  is  by  act  of  will,  must  be  innate. 

NOTE  XLY.    P.  365. 

It  is  not  intended  to  assert  that  this  knowledge  of  the  fact  of 
uniformity  in  many  cases,  may  not  be  intuitive  as  well  as  acquired. 
It  is  certainly  not  an  idea  of  universal  application,  for  there  are 
many  cases  of  a  frequent  recurrence  of  the  same  thing,  to  which 
we  never  learn  to  apply  it ;  and  the  intuitive  knowledge  of  the 
fact  that  in  some  cases  there  is  a  certain  uniformity  of  antecedents 
and  consequences,  might  be  only  an  innate  faith,  that  God  had  in 
such  cases  established,  and  would  maintain  such  uniformity,  which 
would  be  very  different  from  an  intuitive  convicfion  that  such  uni 
formity  must  exist  as  a  condition  of  metaphysical  necessity. 

NOTE  XLYI.  P.  379. 

Though  this  may  be  expressed  in  terms,  it  does  not  seem  cer 
tain  that  any  such  case  can  be  conceived  of  as  practically  arising.  It 
cannot  occur  in  regard  to  the  mind  in  willing,  for  there  is  always 
the  alternative  of  willing  or  not  willing  any  action.  If  one  body 
impinges  directly  against  another,  there  must  be  some  effect  (as 
the  two  bodies  cannot  occupy  the  same  space,  or  one  extension 
cannot  possibly  be  two  extensions) — non-effect,  in  this  case,  involves 
contradiction ;  but  there  are  still  various  conceivable  effects,  no  one 
of  which  has  been  ascertained  to  be  the  one  necessary  effect  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  others.  The  observed  effect  does  in  fact  vary 
very  materially.  It  is  true,  it  varies  only  with  varied  circum 
stances,  as  hardness,  inertia,  momentum  of  the  impinging  body  or 
bodies,  &c. ;  and  then,  in  reference  to  these  circumstances,  with  a 


448  APPENDIX. 

uniformity  which  has  been  well  ascertained.  But,  that  this  or 
any  other  uniformity  is  of  metaphysical  necessity,  that  no  power 
could  have  made  it  otherwise,  has  not  yet  been  demonstrated. 

NOTE  XLVII.    P.  386. 

I  have  here  intended  to  give  all  the  scope  and  weight  to  the 
positions  of  Edwards  which  could  possibly  be  accorded  to  them. 
Nor  do  I  perceive  that  -the  admissions  here  made  require  any  ma 
terial  modification.  It  may,  however,  be  observed  that,  in  the 
views  I  have  presented  in  Book  I.,  any  intelligence  may  influence 
the  volition  of  another  by  imparting  knowledge ;  but,  as  before 
shown,  such  influence  is  possible  only  because  the  volition  of  this 
other  is  free.  This  suggestion  can  have  no  place  in  Edwards's 
system,  because  he  makes  knowledge  itself  the  volition,  and  we 
thus  find  that  even  this  argument  on  the  foreknowledge  of  God  is 
obscured  by  the  confounding  of  choice  and  will.  If,  however,  a 
being  has  any  intelligence  of  its  own — any  knowing  sense — even  its 
knowledge  cannot  be  wholly  controlled  by  extrinsic  power.  A 
man,  with  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear,  must  of  himself  get  some 
knowledge  of  the  external,  and  with  powers  of  thought  must  learn 
some  relations  of  ideas,  and  cannot  be  made  by  extrinsic  power  to 
know  or  believe  that  2+2=5.  In  virtue  of  his  intelligence  he  is  so 
far  an  independent  power ;  and  though  he  may  be  indirectly  in 
fluenced  by  knowledge  imparted  to  him,  yet  even  in  this  he  can 
not  be  coerced  or  constrained.  He  may  be  convinced  by  skilful 
presentation  of  truth ;  he  may  be  deceived  by  ingenious  falsehood ; 
and  freely  acting  upon  the  knowledge  thus  acquired,  his  action 
may  be  different  from  what  it  would  be  if  it  had  not  been  inculca 
ted.  We  may  suppose  the  Supreme  Intelligence  to  resort  to  the 
first  mode,  and  by  imparting  truth  influence  the  action  of  men,  or, 
perhaps,  justly  withholding  divine  illumination,  permit  the  perverse 
to  believe  a  lie.  The  element  of  want  seems  to  present  another 
possible  mode  of  influencing  the  human  will.  These,  as  we  have 
before  observed,  are  in  the  first  instance  constitutional,  and  can  be 
cultivated  only  through  the  medium  of  knowledge,  which  would 
bring  this  mode  in  the  same  class  of  influences  as  that  of -knowl 
edge  itself;  and  if  the  constitutional  wants  are  themselves  altered 
by  a  direct  application  of  power,  this  would  be  to  change  one  of 
the  constitutional  elements  of  the  being ;  and  either  to  partially 


APPENDIX.  449 

annihilate  the  being,  or  add  to  it  by  a  new  creation,  making  a  dif 
ferent  being,  another  free  agent,  whose  acts  might,  in  virtue  of 
being  free,  be  different  from  those  of  the  former  agent.  In  none 
of  these  modes,  then,  can  the  wills  of  finite  intelligent  beings  be 
directly  controlled  even  by  infinite  power  or  infinite  knowledge ; 
and  the  prescience  of  God  furnishes  no  reason  to  suppose  they  can 
be  thus  controlled. 

NOTE  XL VIII.    P.  396. 

Without  entering  generally  upon  a  subject  for  which  I  am 
wholly  unprepared,  I  would  here  merely  note  the  bearing  which 
these  views,  and  some  others  which  I  have  before  stated,  appear 
to  have  upon  the  "  Science  of  History."  Such  a  science  must  have 
its  basis  either  upon  the  idea  that  the  events  of  the  future  are  con 
nected  with  those  in  the  past,  as  effects  dependent  on  antecedent 
causes  which  must  produce  such  effects  and  no  other ;  or  on  the 
supposition  that  the  Supreme  Intelligence  brings  about  results  in 
conformity  to  certain  uniform  modes  or  laws  which  He  has  estab 
lished  ;  by  the  exercise  of  His  power  either  making  all  other  effort 
as  nought,  or  so  combining  the  element  of  His  own  action  with 
other  causes  that  the  composition  of  the  forces  will  produce  cer 
tain  uniform  results,  or  at  least  results  which  may  be  anticipated. 

In  regard  to  the  idea  that  the  events  of  the  future  are  a  neces 
sary  consequence  of  those  in  the  past,  our  previous  reasoning  would 
go  to  show  that,  if  we  eliminate  the  mere  mechanical  effects  which 
may  result  from  matter  in  motion,  there  is  no  such  connection,  and 
that  to  produce  any  such  requires  the  action  of  intelligent  cause. 
The  events  of  the  past  have  no  present  existence.  They  may  be 
remembered  by  an  intelligent  being,  but  such  memories  are  but 
knowledge  of  the  past,  which,  like  any  other  knowledge,  enables 
such  being  to  direct  its  efforts  upon  the  future  intelligently.  The 
whole  influence  of  such  past  is,  then,  through  the  volition  of  an 
intelligent  being.  Excluding  at  any  moment  the  mechanical  effects 
of  matter  in  motion,  the  whole  future  must  depend  on  these  voli 
tions,  and  the  events  and  circumstances  which  have  already  trans 
pired  have  no  more  tendency  to  extend  themselves  into  the  future 
than  the  wall,  which  the  mason,  by  his  own  efforts,  is  raising 
brick  by  brick,  has  to  build  itself  upward. 

The  uniformity  of  the  effects  of  matter  in  motion,  whether  as 


450  APPENDIX. 

necessary  consequences  of  motion,  or  as  uniform  modes  of  God's 
action,  is  established,  and  furnishes  a  means  of  determining  from 
the  past  something  of  the  future ;  but  this  is  limited  to  the  mechan 
ical  conditions  of  the  material  universe,  enabling  us  to  anticipate 
the  alternatipns  of  day  and  night  and  of  the  seasons — to  foreknow 
the  future  positions  of  the  planets,  and  thus  to  predict  eclipses, 
transits,  &c.,  and  so  far  there  is,  and  has  long  been,  a  Science  of 
History. 

In  regard  to  thus  foreknowing  the  course  of  events,  which,  upon 
the  principles  I  have  stated,  is  the  composite  result  of-  all  intelli 
gent  activity,  or  of  such  results  combined  with  the  effects  of  mat 
ter  in  motion  as  a  distinct  cause,  grave  difficulties  present  them 
selves.  If,  as  I  have  argued,  God,  as  a  necessity  in  providing  for 
the  existence  of  finite  free  agents,  foregoes  the  use  of  His  own 
power  to  control  every  event,  and  even  forms  no  plan  of  particu 
lars  in  the  future,  but  is  ever  ready  by  His  own  action  to  modify 
the  effects  of  the  free  and  independent  action  of  all  other  intelli 
gent  beings,  then  He  not  only  does  not  foreknow  the  acts  of 
these  finite  free  agents,  but  He  foregoes  the  prescience  of  His  own 
actions,  and  the  student  who  from  past  history  should  seek  to 
deduce  these  particular  future  acts,  either  of  the  finite  or  Infinite 
Intelligence,  would  be  seeking  a  knowledge  which  God  has  pro 
scribed  even  to  Himself. 

In  any  attempt  to  solve  the  problem  of  these  particular  future 
events,  our  data  must  involve  the  variable  elements  of  innumerable 
free  wills,  each  of  which  may  be  acted  upon  and  affected  by  every 
other,  leaving  little  hope  of  any  solution  as  to  the  particular  events 
of  volition  and  their  immediate  consequences.  If  it  be  said  that, 
amidst  this  almost  infinite  variety,  God  yet,  by  His  paramount 
power,  reconciles  the  divers  influences  so  as  to  bring  about  a  har 
monious  result,  in  conformity  to  some  design  which  He  has  pre 
formed,  still  the  particular  elements  of  the  combination,  including 
His  own  agency  in  it,  cannot  be  foreknown  ;  and  in  regard  to  those 
final  or  cyclical  events,  which  make  a  part  of  this  supposed  pre 
ordained  plan,  there  is  manifestly  great  difficulty.  From  examina 
tion  of  the  past  we  may  learn  such  very  general  facts  as  that  God 
is  just,  that  He  will  punish  iniquity,  &c.,  &c.,  and  hence  draw  very 
general  conclusions  as  to  His  future  action ;  but  this  still  gives 


APPENDIX.  451 

little  indication  of  the  particular  acts  by  which  these  ends  will  be 
reached,  the  time  when,  or  even  of  the  cyclical  events  by  which 
His  justice  will  be  manifested,  for  there  may  be  many  events  which^ 
so  far  as  we  can  see,  will  equally  answer  the  purpose.  In  this  use  of 
His  power  to  do  justice  or  punish  iniquity  we  might  expect,  not  a 
necessary  repetition  of  former  events,  but  the  exhibition  of  action 
reaching  the  same  end,  making  perhaps  historic  parallels,  of  which 
the  events  now  transpiring  in  our  country,  compared  with  those 
which  attended  the  exodus  of  the  Israelites,  when  the  Egyptians 
were  afflicted  with  plague  after  plague,  till  they  were  made  willing 
to  let  the  bondsman  go  free,  seem  to  be  a  striking  illustration. 
Even  in  this  case  it  is  hardly  conceivable 'that  the  events  could  have 
been  inferred,  with  any  particularity,  from  the  past.  Perhaps  the 
nearest  particular  coincidence  in  this  case  is,  that  among  those 
most  immediately  implicated  in  the  wrong  of  slavery,  it  is  now 
asserted  that  there  is  hardly  a  family  in  which  the  strife  has  not 
brought  a  death,  and  then  "  there  was  not  a  house  in  which  there 
was  not  one  dead."  The  plague  of  the  locusts  devouring  the  pro 
ducts  of  labor,  is  easily  typified  among  either  of  the  belligerents^ 
and  perhaps  the  rod — the  law  intended  to  preserve  peace  and 
maintain  order  and  justice — was  cast  down  upon  the  ground  and 
converted  into  a  venomous  reptile,  in  that  opinion  of  our  highest 
judicial  tribunal  in  which  it  was  asserted  that,  by  our  fundamental 
law,  as  originally  intended  by  its  framers,  and  as  it  must  still  be 
construed,  a  whole  race  of  men  and  women  had  no  rights  which 
others  were  bound  to  respect.  Yerily,  if  such  had  become  our 
settled  principles,  there  was  little  reason  to  expect  that  the  aveng 
ing  arm  of  Him  whose  ears  are  open  to  the  moan  and  the  prayer  of 
the  weak  arifl  the  oppressed  would  long  be  stayed.  Such  events 
may  indicate  general  rules  or  uniformity  in  God's  action;  as  that 
the  violence  and  injustice  of  a  people  shall  react  upon  themselves, 
but  still  throws  little  light  upon  the  particular  modes  by  which 
the  uniform  results  will  be  accomplished.  Take  for  instance,  as 
recorded,  the  most  notable  event  of  His  special  action  since  the 
creation  of  the  world — the  destruction  of  our  race  because  of  their 
corruption.  Even  supposing  that,  on  a  recurrence  of  such  corrup 
tion,  God  would,  as  an  act  required  by  perfect  justice,  again 
depopulate  the  earth,  He  might  still  do  it  by  other  modes,  as  fire, 


4:52  APPENDIX. 

famine,  pestilence  or  war.  So  far,  indeed,  from  our  being  able 
from  the  past  to  infer  that  the  recurrence  of  such  corruption 
would  be  followed  by  another  destroying  flood,  we  cannot  even 
infer  that  destruction  in  any  form  would  be  resorted  to.  If  there 
is  no  change  in  God,  there  may  be  such  change  in  His  creatures  as 
will  be  to  Him  a  reason  for  a  different  course  of  action.  Once, 
among  us,  the  scourge  and  the  gallows  were  deemed  the  proper 
antidotes  for  depravity ;  now  milder  means,  with  the  school  and 
the  lyceum,  are  relied  upon,  and  this  change  in  our  views — in  our 
appreciation  of  means — may  be  a  reason  with  God  for  adopting 
another  mode  in  which  He  may  correct  moral  evil  by  imparting 
more  knowledge  to  the  transgressors,  and,  in  case  of  a  resort  to 
miracle,  instead  of  flood  or  flame,  increase  the  knowledge  of  our 
race,  either  by  His  own  immediate  revelations  to  all,  or  by  inspir 
ing  Rome  portion  to  teach  new  and  elevating  truth  ;  or  by  sending 
a  special  agent  with  extraordinary  or  even  miraculous  power  to 
perform  this  office.  On  the  grounds  I  have  before  suggested, 
such  resort  to  miracle  can  seldom  if  ever  become  a  necessity. 

Among  the  prominent  difficulties  which,  in  the  views  I  have 
presented,  would  appear  to  impede  the  Science  of  History,  we  have 
the  great  variety  of  events  which  may  intervene  between  the 
great  general  results  which  mark  the  footsteps  of  the  Deity  in 
time,  and  which  are  perhaps  required  by  His  attributes  ;  the  uncer 
tainty  as  to  the  periods  between  such  events ;  and  that  there  may 
be  many  such  results  which  will  fulfil  the  same  intention.  In  a 
game  of  chess  it  may  be  pretty  confidently  predicted  that  a  very 
skilful  player  will  eventually  checkmate  one  unskilled;  but 
through  what  particular  moves,  or  how  many  of  them,  it  will  be 
done,  no  human  being  can  prognosticate.  If  now  we  suppose  that, 
instead  of  only  one  result,  the  object  or  end  in  view  of  the  player 
is  to  produce  either  checkmate  or  stalemate,  or  some  one  of  a 
thousand  other  conditions,  the  difficulty  of  foreknowing  the  final 
result  is  vastly  increased.  In  chess  the  possible  combinations  are 
limited ;  but  by  repetitions  of  them  the  moves  possible  in  a  single 
game  are  infinite.  If  we  suppose  the  possible  combinations  of  the 
position  of  the  pieces  to  number  a  billion,  then  when  a  billion  and 
one  moves  have  been  made  we  know  that  at  least  some  one  combi 
nation  has  been  repeated.  If  we  assume  an  arbitrary  limit  to  the 


APPENDIX.  453 

number  of  moves  in  any  game,  then  the  variations  which  arise  from 
changes  in  the  order  of  the  succession  of  the  billion  possible  com 
binations  will  also  be  limited ;  and  assuming  this  to  be  a  trillion, 
we  will  know  that  when  a  trillion  and  one  games  have  been  played 
some  one  of  the  games  has  been  an  exact  repetition  of  one  of 
the  others ;  but  who  would  essay  the  task  to  tell,  in  the  first  case, 
what  move,  and  in  the  second  what  game,  had  been  repeated ;  and 
yet  the  attempt  to  conceive  or  to  state  the  greater  difficulty  in 
foreseeing  the  results  of  the  acts  of  innumerable  free  agents  would 
in  itself  be  bewildering. 

This  main  difficulty,  arising  from  the  variable  element  of  free 
volitions,  may  be  thus  stated :  Excluding,  as  before,  the  mechani 
cal  effects  of  matter  in  motion,  the  events  of  the  past  have  no 
power  to  generate  the  future ;  but  that  future  is  the  result  of  in 
telligent  power  manifested  in  efforts  or  acts  of  will.  Intelligence? 
thus  acting,  is  a  cause  which  does  not,  on  a  repetition  of  the  same 
circumstances,  of  necessity  produce  the  same  effect,  or  repeat  its 
own  action,  but  may,  in  such  recurrence,  try  a  new  mode,  produc 
ing  a  different  effect.  The  influence  of  this  variable  element  of 
will  is  further  complicated  by  each  individual  acting  in  reference 
to  what  he  perceives  others  are  doing,  or  are  expected  to  do,  so 
that  the  action  even  of  the  Supreme  Intelligence  may  be  modified 
by  the  action  of  inferior  intelligences,  down  to  the  lowest  in  the 
scale,  and  may  thus  be  influenced  to  elect  one  rather  than  another 
of  divers  cyclical  events,  any  one  of  which  will  fulfil  His  main 
design.  It  must  also  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  object  of  every 
effort  is  to  produce  an  effect  in  the  future,  and  change  that  course 
of  events  which,  but  for  such  effort,  would  be  established  by  the 
influence  of  other  causes ;  and  that  efforts  which  at  the  time  ap 
pear  to  be  of  little  moment  often  lead  to  very  important  consequen 
ces.  These  difficulties  appear  formidable,  leaving  little  hope  that 
the  study  of  the  history  of  the  past  will  enable  us  to  indicate  even 
any  great  results  by  which  God,  in  the  exercise  of  His  overruling 
power,  at  periods  to  us  uncertain,  corrects  the  aberrations  pro 
duced  by  finite  efforts,  and  in  the  main  conforms  the  course  of 
events  and  the  government  of  the  world  to  His  own  attributes, 
On  the  other  hand,  there  is  encouragement  for  the  prosecution  of 
this  lofty  science  in  the  fact  that  every  being  that  wills  must  have 


454:  APPENDIX. 

some  perception  of  the  future  in  which  there  is  at  least  sufficient 
probability  of  truth  to  be  the  foundation  of  its  action,  affording  a 
hope  that  this  prophetic  power  may  be  largely  increased  by  study 
and  cultivation.  It  must  not,  however,  be  overlooked,  that  the 
probability  that  the  future  will  conform  to  our  anticipations  of  it 
decreases  so  rapidly,  as  we  increase  the  distance  in  time,  that  our 
prophetic  vision  can  reach  only  a  very  little  way  into  futurity.  As 
favoring  the  pursuit  of  this  science,  I  may  also  refer  to  the  posi 
tion  which  (in  th%  text)  I  have  just  attempted  to  illustrate,  that 
God  may  govern  the  world  and  provide  compensation  for  all  the 
aberrations  of  finite  wills  without  departing  from  general  rules  or 
uniform  modes  of  action ;  and  to  the  previous  positions,  that,  being 
perfect  in  wisdom,  His  actions,  under  the  same  circumstances,  will 
be  free  from  the  mutations  which  attend  the  experimental  efforts 
of  less  intelligent  beings,  and  that  even  the  imperfect  wisdom  of 
finite  free  agents  leads  to  a  partial  uniformity  in  the  actions  of 
the  individual,  while  similarity  in  the  natural  wants  and  intuitive 
knowledge,  and  identity  in  the  absolute  truths  from  which  we  de 
rive  our  acquired  knowledge,  tend  to  produce  a  corresponding 
similarity  in  the  actions  of  different  individuals.  These  tenden 
cies  to  uniformity  encourage  the  hope  that  some  law  or  mode  of 
God's  action,  analogous  to  that  which  assures  the  stability  of  the 
material  universe,  may,  within  certain  limits,  regulate  the  succession 
of  events  in  the  moral.  We  may  also  note,  that  though,  in  some 
aspects,  the  ability  which  each  one  has  to  influence  the  action  of 
others  complicates  and  obscures  the  future,  in  another  view  it  aids 
us  to  anticipate  it.  Our  power  to  influence  a  future  event  is  so  far 
a  power  to  foreknow  it.  "When  the  efforts  of  a  large  number  of 
persons  are  directed  to'  the  same  end,  the  probability  that  this  end 
will  be  accomplished  is  increased.  "When  these  efforts  are  intend 
ed  to  influence  the  volition  of  numerous  individuals,  though  no  one 
can  foreknow  the  effect  upon  any  particular  one  of  them,  the 
probabilities  are  that,  for  reasons  just  stated,  a  large  number  will 
be  similarly  influenced,  and,  if  the  efforts  have  been  wisely  directed, 
that  the  desired  result  will  be  reached.  In  individual  action  each 
adopts  the  mode  which  his  own  knowledge,  derived  in  great  meas 
ure  from  past  experience,  suggests.  This  leads  to  diversity  of  action ; 
and  combined  action  requires  a  common  reason,  or  at  least  a  common 


APPENDIX.  455 

ground  for  action,  and  this  can  often  be  found  in  that  common  or 
general  experience  of  which  history  is  the  record.  Hence  the  ob 
vious  application  of  this  science  to  the  enacting  of  public  laws. 

In  those  efforts  by  which  we  do  our  part  in  creating  the  future, 
what  we  most  immediately  and  pressingly  want  to  know  is,  what 
next  to  do,  and  the  farther  we  can  clearly  trace  the  consequences 
of  our  efforts,  the  better  are  we  prepared  to  decide  what  to  do. 
It  is  evident,  however,  that  in  tracing  out  the  consequences  of  an 
action  in  all  its  subsequent  ramifications,  the  problem  as  to  what 
is  best  to  be  done  soon  becomes  so  complicated  that  the  time  for 
action  would  pass  before  we  could  thus  decide  what  to  do. 

It  seems,  however,  at  least  probable,  that  the  more  systematic 
study  of  the  past  may  enable  us  better  to  perform  our  parts  in  cre 
ating  the  proximate  future,  may  expand  our  knowledge  of  the  ways 
of  God,  and  increase  our  faith  in  His  attributes,  and  at  the  same 
time  lead  us  to  some  very  generic  ideas  of  the  modes  in  which  He 
manifests  these  attributes  in  His  government  of  the  world ;  and . 
these  are  objects  well  worthy  of  our  highest  efforts.  In  nearly  all 
our  efforts  to  acquire  knowledge,  our  aim  is  to  find  out  God's  ways, 
and  read  His  character  in  His  works. ' 

The  ideas  above  alluded  to,  and  inculcated  in  various  parts  of 
this  work,  that  in  our  humblest  efforts  we  are  co-workers  with 
God,  taking  part  with  Him  in  the  creation  of  .the  future,  and  that 
our  ways  change  His  ways,  may  to  some  appear  irreverent,  and 
even  arrogant,  but  they  seem  to  me  to  furnish  the  only  rational 
ground  for  hope  in  effort,  or  trust  in  prayer,  and  that  "by  exclud 
ing  them  we  would  make  our  noblest  efforts  and  holiest  aspira 
tions  the  merest  mockery.  However  hallowing  and  consoling  the 
reflex  influences  of  devout  prayer  may  be,  the  belief  in  a  system 
which  would  exclude  us  from  a-11  influence  upon  the  future,  either 
by  our  own  direct  efforts  or  by  petition  to  the  Sovereign  power, 
making  us  but  the  subjects  of  a  rigid  and  inexorable  despotism, 
firould  degrade  humanity  and  involve  all  the  evils  of  fatalism. 


ONE  MONTH  USE 


JAN  3   J375 


••• 


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